Picture

Control
She whispered                                                                quietly
Her desperate need                                                     to be whole
While chaos played out                                        in one form or another
A symphony around her frame                         That she sadly could not quiet
This delicate building of her body               was so shaken by one crisis or the next
Assaulted by flames of fear and her needed control of all the craziness which broke her
Some other people would break under similar strains like iron in the fire and so to speak
But we are built to withstand our individual battles so her pain is her own none could bare
                   It in the same way
                     Which she does for
                       If everything were
                          Simple life would
                              Be too easy she thinks
                                     As the next tear gets
                                       Dried following the
                                          Traditions of the others                                   a
                                           Small testament to her                                 own
                                            Courage which took her                            whole
                                          Life to build up so ashes for                            a
                                        Strong frame to be built
                                     Took many firings in the
                                  Kiln and she is made into
                                Pottery to be smashed
                            And remade into a new form
                          One more beautiful because
                        The Potter grows more skilled                     it's
                          Practiced art of trial building                   taller
                             Change to again strengthen her          in stone
                                   Made character a whole person         a
                                       Piece of art made from all the broken pieces
           Of                         a beautiful phoenix to die and be reborn in some
         Newer                          sequence the same troubles come again and
        Always                   building new strength out of tested weakness
      Somehow             while she begs for control over her world she
             Is                   failing to recognize the world she shapes
                                     With every defiant return from the darkest
                                         Places of her heart and she cries about the
                                            Pain of the trial because she can't see the
                                             Beautiful picture she makes out of the ashes
                                                 O her failures and the flames of her success