Segments

Segments of fortune,
indicators of my fate :
lines on my forehead,
and palms of my hand.

Passages of time
marked on my face
crows feet under my eyes.
laughter lines on my cheeks.

Passages of life
everywhere you see-
stretch marks on my belly
from baby carrying days.

These signs of the past
I carry on my body
Wife, mother, lover, friend
all that I've been.

Smothered in layers
by very many screens;
unheard, unseen.

Demarcated, lined
battle lines drawn;
branded cattle like,
quartered up like poultry.

Shredded, chopped up
into tiny little bits.
Split into a million parts,
blown to smithereens.

All that I was, and am
is not all there is to me.