Your poem adorns my wall
gifted by beloved
with whom I was supposed to grow old.
Countless times read and re-read,
I imagined myself centered and self-assured.
In reality, I longed for much too much
from others.
The rhythm of your words
chanted in my breath
whispered mouth to ear.
I imagined myself willowy –
bending, uncracked, –
in life’s buffeting winds.
In reality, I shattered
myself and others alike.
The magic of your call
woman to woman
reverberates in my soul.
I imagined self-love
honoring elemental needs
with grace and dignity.
In reality, I eschewed neediness –
lost everything.
Your canticle of sisterhood
passionate in devotion
warms my heart’s frozen cockles.
I imagined I sat encircled
by those women of whom
you speak.
In reality, I had seated
myself awry, with remind-ers
of foibles, not truth.
I imagined myself as the woman
of your timeless verse.
My imagination faltered,
floundered,
failed.
