A Dry Tree

A woman slept in the shadow of a dry tree,
chained to its roots by the shackle on her wrist.

As the day progressed, and the shadow slipped,
she rolled to follow on the worn, warm dirt.

She was kept by the tree by the shackle
She was kept by dreams by the shadow

Somewhere beyond the tree were memories,
memories she kept outside its shadow.

Memories of things done and done to her,
not remembered in her sleeping beside the tree.

In the shadow of the tree, she had no memories,
no fears or hopes to spin her dreams.

She only slept in the shadow of the tree,
with her arm on the chain and her wrist on the shackle

if you can believe it, this came out of a lecture.  And out of a picture.