He Called Her Crazy
I don’t think it’s crazy
To hold out a hand to those who can’t wash their own laundry anymore
Airing it or never,
Who cares?
What use is it to me what they’ve done before, when clearly I see what they might need now?
And I don’t think its crazy
Loving someone who is like burning firecrackers and cold water rapids at the same time;
Admiring a fire and a running stream in cohesion does not seem crazy.
More a fascination,
But lord I did learn my limit and I grew a steel ramrod in my spine;
I learned to speak like a dove and plot like a serpent and save myself;
Maybe that’s why the errors in others do not seem like much ado;
I don’t think I’m crazy for thinking making bread and serving supper and bearing children makes a woman;
After all, some messages made it seem
So.
I was not crazy
When I left my home for a safer refuge with my children and their behaviors and tantrums and spare shoes and all our problems but one,
I do not think it is crazy
To wake with a shudder in the middle of the night when the memories are alive like mosquitoes at camp, they won’t leave me alone
I think
Small men
Use the word crazy
To define
What they are too shallow
To understand.
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