In my dreams, I watch from my tower as a woman walks out in the pale moonlight and holds her broken marriage before God as if to ask one question tearfully, why? Every night I wonder to myself, who is she? Her silver hair sways in the wind, her tears fall silently to the ground. She wears her pain like a gladiator wears armor. She is untouchable, her chalice of sorrow a cup only she can taste. I can’t wait to see her rise from her ashes like a phoenix. Like a whisper on the wind, the new day dawns and she makes her way home to hide the pain she releases into the night.