Her Epiphany

To him, her heart was a piece of wood
to whittle into a new shape,
a form he could appreciate better
in his understanding of what
a woman should be.
Playing hopscotch games with her emotions,
careful not to step on the lines,
he would move her from square to square,
a gentle compliment lifting her to ecstatic happiness,
then a pejorative crushing her into absolute despair.
A touch of truth with each delivered comment
allowed him to absolve himself of guilt
at least in his understanding of what
constitutes shameful action.
One snowy day
she sat on the deacon’s bench
in a chill room,
bathing in the reflected sunshine
streaming through the frosted window.
Staring dreamily at the treasure chest
releasing tiny bubbles into an aquarium
she watched the lid open,
revealing the treasure,
and a stream of bubbles would
dance to the surface of the tank.
Then the lid would shut,
concealing the treasure
and stopping the bubbles.
In a sudden, emotionally lucid moment
the metaphor of her relationship
became clear to her.
As the bubbles rose to the surface
her understanding of what
a woman can be
chose a new path.

Another jigsaw poem - using words given to me by Kennedy Smith - whittle, lucid, absolve, tank (thanks for that one KC - it really forced me to find an image); John Toyooka - pejorative; Bill "Boomer" Preston - appreciate; Laraine Bugiski - treasure, ecstatic, snowy; and Megan Graffius - hopscotch (another toughie, thanks). Have you ever been in this relationship? And when you finally escaped wasn't the epiphany as oddly delivered and as fully certain. I haven't been on either side of this - but I've seen it enough to know it.