the axe and the tree

I look at the lines on your face

And the silver that is flecked through your once dark hair and think,

"Oh, how the world has tested you.

You didn't deserve this.

You are a woman, but just a girl.

A wife, but someone's daughter.

Why hasn't the world shown you kindness?"

And I forget.

Then I see the furrow of her brow

And the grimace that makes its home on her lips while she spews malice and hurt

And I think,

"Our world inside these walls test me.

Why do I deserve this?

I am a woman, but just a girl.

A daughter. Your daughter.

Why can't you show me kindness?"

And I remember.

But I see the ghosts that swim in your vision

And the past that weighs so heavily on your shoulders.

I hear the whispers of words that fill your head

That came from your own mother and planted such vicious seeds of doubt

And I think,

"How is this fair? To you

Or to me?"

Then I forget all over again.