The villager

I walked in the village path, 

into an old house where

an old lady sat by the fire.

"Perhaps a wandering soul could

warm herself by your fire?"

i asked.

she poured me a mug of rice wine

and continued to blow into the fire.

I watched her and suddenly a fierce hatred

welled up in me.

One, I could not explain why or how.

She sat and blew into her fire

And resentment for being who she was

consumed me as i drank her wine.

"Who shall i be but this, where shall i go from here?"

she asked, answering my gaze.

i wish i knew how it was to be her.

Oblivious, unaffected and resolute.

Her life began here and would end here

While I, fleeting and inconsistent would remain

I think my resentment towards her

was not being able to be her.