Life when a woman turns fifty |
My brains holds a seed of torment that shakes me to my soul, exploding into a million pieces of which I have no control. The sameness of my daily life has no clear destination, Just a few sentences on a piece of paper is my life's declaration. I mop, I sweep, I dust I do the dirty dishes, all while contemplating all my superficial wishes. I wonder why the secrets of my fantasies are no more, As I pick up the wet towel someone again threw on the floor. While my child is sleeping and my husbands in another room, I sit out on our doorstep engulfed with deep despair and gloom. Yet I can't even answer the questions in my mind, Of what it is I long for what it is that I must find. It is not another husband or another form of life, For the two things I love most are being a mother and his wife. What I ask for is peace and serene tranquility A fulfillment of the heart of which I do not see. A break from reality is what I think I need, A padded room being observed where someone else holds the key. To unlock this genetic confusion that oh so troubles me. It has followed me since childbirth created in my mother's womb, An uneven way of thinking that found its way to bloom. I have never been able to tame it or put it in its place, For every morning I can see it still etched upon my face. If I carry it to my grave I pray it leaves me there, And when I am awakened I hope I am repaired. |