No story is the truth
but there are true stories
and this is one:
(it could be said the story is the frame)
This is the one in which
I own my name
move strongly in the archetypal power
where all particulars of who I am
can flower
with no apology, no shame
Like wings unfolding
once a chrysalis has split
They stretch and take in substance
from the sun and air
They multiply and reach
their shape still undefined
their ribs still forming
their planes coming aligned
Their strength now building
They soon will show
their bright resplendency
With opalescent glow
they’ll carry me
No story is the truth
but here’s a true story:
To own my name
delivers me a new glory.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2011