In that quiet and still moment loneliness hit her,
Like an empty vessel, like a roaring shore less ocean.
Once she opened her mouth to speak
The sluice gates of emotion let loose the words.
Words, which tumbled and gushed out to fill the surrounding void,
Words, which emerged from the shadows of her fears and frustrations,
Words that opened the doors of her rage and revenge,
She tirelessly argued with her fate, past and present.
With herself she carried out her most meaningful conversations,
Even as she went about her routine chores-
Cleaning and cooking, washing and watering,
Sweeping and shopping on her spindly legs.
Her monologue continued unabated to her one constant companion.
Often her monologues were addressed to those
Close to her in different stages of her life…
Her God, mom, sister, friend, husband and children.
To the world this mindless muttering matron,
Seemed to be on the brink of insanity.
For her, it was her sustenance through the ranting rains,
The sleepy summer, and the withering winter.
It soothed her frayed nerves and her heavy heart.
It was her addiction, though therapeutic.
It was her last refuge in the autumn of her life,
It made her feel the ebb and flow of life still running through her.