Stands Tall and Fights

Its early in the day.

I sit across this comfortable couch,
detach my i-pod, mute my machine
and do my beads.
And every bead that passes through my fingers
is accompanied with a prayer,
one that I had forsaken for long
but now I chant away.

I reach the last bead and open my eyes,
and see her shift under that blanket
a soft red blanket with white snowflakes
And it reminds me of January, last.
Had it really snowed ? In Austin ?
The roads were glazed over, as if
a sheet of ice had stopped over
and now lay expecting the worst
from this unusual place.

She insists on sleeping on the floor
the couch is too soft,
and the bed stays empty next door.
Like always, I relent without much resistance

Has it always been like this ?
Certainly never as confusing.
I detest to see any small thing hurt her,
but dont see much I could do
I hate to see her pay for things
yet I haven't the courage to stop her from it
I hate leaving her company for long
but dare not suffocate her.
And through these times,
every time I fall within her circle of life
say, while walking her to and fro,
If I even momentarily fall under the impression
that I am protecting her,
the next instant makes me laugh at myself.
Like Achilles needed his armor !

My mind which often is at ease
kneels down before my memory
that ruthlessly berates my senses,
but with nothing more than silence can afford.

I recollect that bright smile,
when standing at the front desk,
she was to receive some delicious food,
sent across from miles away,
fondly packed by motherly love,
love that smelt of home.
And now as she collects her own belongings
from hands that act as go-between.
Love seems to stand in a pool of shame.

And I see that same smile.
It most certainly is broader,
yet wait, has it become wanner?
She walks down 22nd beside me,
the afternoon sun beats down on us
But even in all his sternness I can see the pretence,
I can recognize that proud fatherly smile.

Yes, she stands tall and fights.