YOUR
ROLE IN THE SURPRISE
Girls
grow into women.
ItÕs
a subtle process
like
the slow advance
of
the grass in the field.
And,
though you might think so,
it
didnÕt just happen.
What
youÕre seeing
is
days, months, years,
not
the miracle of the moment.
You
havenÕt seen her in some time,
and
sheÕs blossomed like a peach.
YouÕve
not taken the time to observe
so
you discard time as the reason.
YouÕre
wrong in every respect.
YouÕve
contributed nothing to who she is
as
she slowly ascends the stairs
looking
very adult, surprisingly lovely.
And
yet youÕre still convinced
this
is your moment, not hers.
She
smiles warmly in your direction.
But
because she likes you, not to thank you.
STANDING
OVER HER HUSBAND, CARVING KNIFE IN HAND
Her
mind has threatened him
a
thousand times
but
the hand that grips a carving knife
had
not followed through.
When
heÕs asleep
would
be the optimum.
HeÕs
fat. He snores.
Little
risk of stabbing into
the
little thatÕs left
of
his humanity.
And
his nose emerges
from
the confines of the pillow.
She
could slice it off.
And,
while sheÕs at it,
cut
those lips clear
off
his face.
But
still she doesnÕt act.
Even
though he never
has
a kind word for her.
And
he drinks.
And
he wonÕt let her see
any
of her old friends.
SheÕs
enjoying
the
moment too much.
SheÕs
the one with the weapon.
HeÕs
the perfect target, lying there.
But
heÕs never hit her at least.
If
she kills him,
it
would have to be
a
different kind of self-defense.
Finally,
she slides the knife back
in
the drawer,
slips
into the bed beside him,
like
she too is being slid into a drawer.
She
doesnÕt disturb his sleeping.
But
sheÕs done enough to disturb her own.
AMYÕS
PURCHASE
The
Navajo woman
sells
Amy bracelets and earrings
silently,
unsmilingly.
She
slides the credit card
slowly
through the reader
by
the cash register,
hands
it back
without
once making eye contact.
Maybe
sheÕs had a bad day.
Maybe
she has a long memory.
Amy
just happens to find
the
jewelry charming,
is
unaware of Wounded Knee,
the
slaughter at Washita River.
She
hasnÕt broken any treaties.
In
fact, in her own way,
she
figures sheÕs making one,
helping
out the reservationÕs economy
while
buying something
that
will look good with her new blouse.
Besides,
thatÕs all ancient history to Amy.
Today,
sheÕs a tourist.
Today,
sheÕs a woman
checking,
in the mirror,
how
smart she looks
in
something tribal made.
The
Navajo woman
does
stare up at Amy
as
she takes her purchase,
pops
it in her pocket book.
And
thereÕs more
than
a little accusation
in
the dark expression.
But
IÕm who I am,
Amy
wants to say.
IÕve
nothing to do with
Òyou
and those just like you.Ó
©
John Grey