Deadwood the very name wearied me but I kept going. A woman must follow, must follow. my footsteps repeated through Tennessee, Askansas, the wagon wheels creaked like my mother's voice, be a good mother, be a good wife, be a strong woman. Now Mamma you would not know me, my face baked brown as a clay pot I have grown stronger than you can imagine So strong I say to you "Leace me alone" and you vanish like smoke up the flue. I am always alone. And I walk where I want in this strange land, attempting to stare with no memory when the black hawk descends to the neck of the hare. Kathryn Stripling Byer back