She was a level-headed woman.
Her days filled with the busy-ness
of balancing her life:
cook, housekeeper, lover, friend,
sister, daughter, confidante, wife, mother.
She made it look easy,
spinning all those plates.
Until the day the plates stopped turning,
and one by one,
each fell to her feet,
smashed into little pieces.
Was it madness, hysteria, stupidity, or carelessness?
As she shrugged her shoulders and stepped over the debris
I saw her head lift high-
in defiance, elation, or euphoria,
I could not tell.