The crown of woman
begins to set more firmly
and what remains of girlhood
hardens
into little crystals
that will adorn her,
until the end.
her soul still shrinks
to cringing
as she changes,
never sure
if her skin is clarifying,
molding to the shape
of Spirit,
her cells growing
more like slips
and windows,
or is it something
quite apart
from Her?
A stark tool,
as different as the iron
of a knife
is from the flesh of the hand
that holds it.
Though carved
and beautified
with art from the mind,
wood and stone
remain itself,
apart