she feels the cold

small-weighted stone

and throws it in the lake

 

a little thing 

she can control -

so different from the hate

 

she shuts her eyes

to listen hard,

soft-clicking wind through leaves,

 

sits on hot grass

and wraps her

too-thin arms around her knees

 

she breathes this world

where each small life’s

a frequency that fits

 

Here, she is safe -

this Mother grounds, 

embracing all of it.

 

so, for a moment

(maybe three)

she falls into a dream

 

heart stretching far

beyond dirt roads,

sweet playful soul flies free…

 

pierced in an instant,

called to caging, 

by her shouted name -

 

a record scratch -

her reverie is 

broken by her pain.

 

so, dutiful, 

she clears the frame

and paints a picture still,

 

molds and cuts 

her every cell

to fit the family will.

 

determined to 

be good this time,

wild field inside to tame

 

all that she knows

herself to be

confusing what remains

 

those thoughts are bubbles

mirrors bent -

if probed she knows she’ll break

 

she pulls a full

ripe dandelion

and throws it in the lake.