Adrift, caught between:
“I am a strong woman.”
“I am a soft woman.”
Two mighty Goliaths battling for space
in the mist laden forest of my heart-
one set of branches swinging
toward rushing, white-capped water,
the other protecting the firm ground
beneath her twisting, grapevine roots.
I close my eyes and can feel the
arch and sway and crack and whisper
of each spiral stairway trunk-
one of iron and one of cotton.
A swinger of birches indeed-
but no one ever told me these birches
would be my own-
coexisting in a body built for war
and for the heavy quiet of nighttime.