Southern Comfort

Angry woman
bakes away days in lonely fields;
hopeless,
with bitter in the back of her throat.
Curse that man and his sun-kissed promise--
fickle heart will keep him runnin’.


Broken woman
suckling independence with her sweet bosom;
ain't got plans to pack for no man
to leave for greener pastures,
cause tha’s what Massa’ said he’d do
a long time ago.


Shattered woman--
no place to stand beside her.
Demons got her enclosed;
afraid of the southern sun--
front door locked tight
with a rear window open;
Fixin’ for her quick escape.

Precious woman,
I’d be obliged to love you.
Come sit down beside me
on the old porch swing.
Leave your fears to rest
on my able shoulder,
to melt with the color
of the southern sunset.