She stepped from their presence
Startlingly, too soon,
And relished the silent moments amid the agony.
For a while it was just her and the new-found joy(and pain),
But too soon was she needed back.
When periodically she would return,
Their well-meaning tendrils of neediness smothered her,
And, well-greased and grinning, she would slip away again.
Self-preservation had always been her shining virtue—or glaring flaw.
When at last the struggling wardens insisted her presence,
She stumbled back to her rightful place,
Dreading all that would come.
But it never did.
She returned to a thriving world,
Having deluded herself of their helplessness without her.
She realized how small she really was and, cradling one larger than her,
Dipped her head in silent acceptance of what she discovered was truth,
And the new woman she had become replaced the replacement of someone past.
She pushed on, borne ever forward by sheer will,
Never nearing who she was before and never far from falling into herself again.
Having written this a long time ago, your interpretation is as good as mine. Maybe even better, since I vaguely remember the overwhelming emotion tied into this poem.
