A Past Carved In Time

She is stronger

I can see it in her gait

She is hale and whole

And beautiful, passionate woman

In her eyes is a burning fire

As hot as banked coals

And her smile, which I hesitate to receive,

Is kind and gentle like the quilt she sews

Her demeanor is strange and foreign

She speaks and words come out

I listen patiently and stare at her breasts

She is angry and beautiful

She yells and showers me with trinkets

Her rage is wild, a creation of nature

She flees for the open skies and wild oats

She excludes me and becomes pensive

Her hand is what I seek, not her whim

She is to stubborn, too mulish and strong

I will quell the rebellion and set her in a corner chair

She withers away, day by day

The seed does not grow

I am mad and lash out at her

And she is in a crumpled heap on the floor

Days pass and I weary of her

And I take a lover

She knows this and plots against me

So when I return, I see no flowers

I see no home, no place to call my own

She is outside in the open skies and wild oats

The house singed to ash

She is laying eyes closed

Looking at the sky