How did she endure It?
to the woman I loved
The memory of the rain and sleets, all the music I heard, songs of the drift snows from the hill, and smell of the swamp. The old house across the swamp, crouched at the foothill, like a brooding animal; the hungry chicks chirping, begging, wondering. Her doubt on his method would gnaw at her skin, the words swallowed. The old elm, with a big hollow in the trunk was my refuge when they argued; I'd sit on the bough, watch the well below. a tadpole peeking out the cloud in the well, watching me watching it in awe. No wonder she called it unhealthy savior. What else in it? Now, the frost on my head, I don't try to understand her. Instead, I raise my hands above my head, reach for the heaven, as if to hold her boney hands that cared for us all through the cold nights. All her life. ©Byung A. Fallgren