if growth is the point to life
at what points in life do we
allow ourselves to grow
each truth, each pet, each love
each holdover tenant - each space
we entombed with our cells
adventure may lead to change
inward, irreparable change
perhaps that is the fear that
drives women to keep those
loved close. we love what we
know, it is safe what we know
there is no more safe place
in life than in the shoulder of
a man you love. there is no more
love felt than when a child holds
our waist. this conundrum of
space wasted. i am told men
fear loss of freedom then why
even allow a woman to nestle
in that space between the heart
below the head. why bare self?
