A Woman

Just came across this poem on the net….Truly a window to the woman’s heart…

 

I Am

by Skyfyre

I am … A woman With a full heart, hidden Somewhere in an empty room … With eyes not quite of autumn’s gold, and yet Neither all of summer’s green; I wonder … If love is a tale made for children – A granting of sweet dreams in their innocence – A honey-coating to help their throats Choke down the bitter draught … I hear … A voice that whispers warnings, half-formed, Bodiless as hope, until I swear I cannot draw Another breath unless this spectre be unmasked, His lies mangled ‘neath my righteous tread; I see … A woman, proud, uncompromising, Diaphanous as air — less, even, than the tears That fall in desolation about her weary feet, Salt poison pooled upon the withered ground … I want … A measure of quietude, a certain silence, The echo of alone which heals me of dreaming, The nothing that stills the wanting, The numb, the cold that laughs at pain; I am A woman, hidden …I pretend … That I can live forever — that Time Has no puissance but that which I afford Him – And so, I can wait, I can be happy tomorrow, Sleep is for the dead; but its ghosts haunt my waking … I feel … Too much — too deeply to be directionless, Too real for imagining, and yet the familiar eyes Hold nothing of recognition — only my reflection – A meeting of shadows in sunlit glass; I touch … The downy wings of hope, in wonder, In reverence, in need, in hunger; Alas, it burns my fingers as a flame, A sacrilege, self-defined … I worry … That I am alone; that in my longing I have forsaken all — but oh, what reward, What smile divine should light the path to freedom – And how can I but heed the siren’s call? I cry … For having too much, for fear of bursting, And then, when by the pouring of my soul I lie, a vessel emptied, I cry again For what was had, and lost; I am A woman, empty … I understand That life is what you make it, That sometimes, the coat of many colors That marks your triumphs brightly, blends only To loneliest of grey … I say That we are made by life, shaped, Broken, perhaps — unmade and voided – But always, the core of us remains, waiting With only faith, with trust, to be reborn; I dream Of bluest waters, reaching With unnatural hands toward the faded sky, Of dolphins that wander in seas without limits, Carrying me water-breathing past corals and clouds … I try … To lead by example, knowing That merely the telling holds no power; A gift of giving is merely a day, while A gift of knowing spans forever; I hope … That my darkness holds you gently, That pain is halved by sharing, that feeling Wields nothing past the words it summons, Except that it touch you with only healing … I am A woman, only.