A house of cards
A house of straw
A house of words
What gravitas can they afford?
A bold, invented self
Or even one that hides
And only tells itself its little stories
How can it feed the hunger of my soul?
I’m rendered quiet
I don’t even have two cards
To lean against each other
No straw that isn’t old and wet and mildewed
No words to form a self-respecting cover
So I go and dance
I build my house of arcs of reaching arms
And light that flows between each darting glance
All filled with music and the moment’s charms
And if my gesture shelters someone else
And gathers others as its moves unfold
I, too, will find a shelter for myself
In that sweet harmony
The dance can hold.
©Wendy Mulhern
©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2012
ahhhh. sweet shelter.