My
Indian Woman
(and
the summer of 1984)
She
came to me at a time when my
world
was cold and held me.
I
felt her soul crying.
And
we, sensing
what
could be, began our journey
bounded
in lifetimes.
In
summer moments we sailed and loved
at
times, me fleeing, her, in pursuit
showing
the gentleness I knew her soul to be.
We
coupled as neither had before.
Times
of hardship found us, they find
us
all, but we protected each other from
the
world.
Teenage
girl, wound in her world-
comes
beside us in hesitant moves,
suffering
a past, and slowly seeing
the
warmth of our security.
We
deal with her in thoughts
of
independence.
Encouragement,
fear, and wonder
move
us to a broad and richer life.
We
all become our destinies.
In
our light a warm so true,
its
purity provides strength
to
carry us through.
Her
Young 1ife passes by.
All
the while, she, my Indian Woman
smiles
with her love, and in touching
our
gift brings the calm strength
needed
to travel the dark spots of life.
At
times I've found myself
raging
at anger.
Forces
attack when least expected.
These
attacks
have
turned to challenge,
as
in all forms
our
lives entwine-
providing
a bridge past darkness.
And
we
ever
moving
take
note of the mysteries.
Upon
knowing
the
meaning of my flight,
our
home came to us
(as
if a gift from God).
It
bore us roses
throughout
the summer ,
and
she
thanking
me for their gifts .
Tears
ran from my eyes.
Each
day
another
pink, or yellow blossom
found
her vase
as
she, in smiles,
kissed
me.
Through
our summer of madness
with
my ex-wife.
her
nasty games
driven
by insecurities.
Past
possible damage
she
attempted to inflict upon us
and
her children.
my
Indian woman held me.
And
me, pretending calm-
touched
by her telling me
everything
would be righted.
We
found strength
to
press on,
wrapped
in together.
Competition
with the world
is
the basis of pain –
the
fight,
an
abrasive and deadening way.
As
we lay in our bed
(our
most favorite time)
Kathleen
and are
at
God with mankind.