I am in transition,
I speak to those who come after me,
I learn from those who come before me.

She makes my back warm,
Melting Iron,
Smelting leather and skin,
Into leather again.

Those that watch laugh with pity,
Those that study cringe with pain,
Those that judge seem too witty,
. . . . .and it is for those who cannot understand.

But I understand, now I understand.

I used to watch the poor man in the back room,
getting beat by the mean lady with a giant broom,
. . . . .with splinters.
Each splinter is again a world of wonder, he says,
. . . . .and I laughed with pity.

I used to study the piteous woman on the tree,
getting beat by the mean man with a tail of three,
. . . . .with hash marks of red.
Each hash mark of red is again a world of wonder, she says,
. . . . .and I studied, cringing in pain.

I understood when I finally fell,
off my tall horse called Brick Wall,
for he was a brick wall, after all.

There's no shame in it, they say,
so I went for it, clear as the night sky in shades of gray,
and that's when it hit me,
. . . . .as it is for those who understand.

Having had melted iron, leather, and skin,
been smelt into leather again,
I sigh at those poor folks who cannot understand,
the pure bliss of me, that woman, and man.