How scared can a woman be

This is how I will wrap the parsley,
tender but not broken as I think of
a wrapped child, returned to his mother's arms
for one final time

this is how scared a woman can be
that she mistake veggies for a child
and wraps the world in her shoulderblades
this is how obvious her fear will be

she will not say anything, because
speech breaches the sacred demands
of the silence that details control is
still present within the walls of the house

within the walls of the heart, that no
longer can understand the basics of math
or the problem of history demanding
houses be torn over a head in promise

of peace that never comes, this is how scared
a woman can be, the length of two fabrics
sacrificed for the stitching of wounds
open in public but held together in private

because tears can diminish sacred prayer
and manic laughter, inane voices
are for little girls, afraid of a needle point
of a sound that comes at night or of a vision
this is how scared a woman can be
that she no longer sees her own reflection as
one she recognizes. She doesn't want to lose
she doesn't tell you, she is scared
of abstract thoughts, or actualities
but she will not let you know.