Lady CK

She has her moods they are like weather there are storms that bring devastating wind, torrential rain followed quickly by bright sunshine Slowly, I am learning the skill to bring her sun out But it is hard; my role in molding her into the woman she is was handled with clumsy hands In twenty long and lonely years she learned the lesson that my feet are made of heavy clay; she's taken the news bitterly In twenty stormy years I've learned the lesson that she is not a goddess on a pedestal, carved of marble she is a woman, mortal, weak, and needy There have been times she needed just to nurture; I turned away, ashamed of needing her and the distance I made between us wounded her, and me There are times when I think her strength was forged by fire and it was I who lit the match; it's ironic, how that worked out But then, just the other night, when I held her I saw her as just a child needing this closeness far more often than I could give it and, like so many other times I sentenced myself to a prison of regret and my iron bars once again restrained me from moving close to her- it's ironic, how this works out, I reach out weakly; my feeble hand cannot brush her tears away Written February 1st, 2002 © on Feb 01 2002 06:46 AM PST   10 • 0 • 8