I have seen her

​I have seen her soften
in the middle of an argument.
On her face: the quality of a just-lit candle,
and hope that the wind will quiet so the flame can catch.
I have seen her pause, deep inside herself,
to ask the question that could change the story.

To ask the question that could change the story.

I have seen her invite fresh seed
to land in soil that would give, 
and the way, when the soil stays hard and cracked, she gathers and holds the delicate lick of fire 
with the tenderness and patience of a mother, 
and the dogged determination required 
to tend the question through the night.