Poems for the Brave

Hello, Woman.

I awake to the call of a blackbird,
This I know I heard.
And I walked over to my tall glass mirror
With a stomach salty and churned.
And I looked into the mirror,
And I saw some queer mixture...
Of a woman with a child
Fighting in the iris
Of the crystalline glow of her eyes.
I stared at her, for a very long time
And found I didn't hate her one dime.
Not the woman, no, for she was the same
As the child fading inside.
I hated instead the world that was
Pressing around her silly head.
Smothering the worlds that grew
From her imagination, flowery and fresh.
There were universes you see,
That only she could see.
And lived as though she mothered them,
And rode, horseback through their
Heather-strewn fields.
And silver dewed fantasy.
But now; this woman stares at me.
They are gone.
How could I forget a part of me so strong?
I look back up into her blue eyes,
So serious, sparkling and young...
And as fairy dust pokes my mouth to a smile, I know;
You have found me woman;
But not yet won.