Poetry

Swans at Crossroads

Here she is at the edge of the tunnel
A crossroads on a narrow path
Sun on asphalt
Eyes adjusting to the bright
She teases the wind with a finger
Now two
She can’t tell its direction
She is scared
A small step back
Into darkness
Into comfort
There she does not have to wonder at her shadow
At the future it foretells
There she does not have to wonder at her greatness
At what she could be
At what she already is
But won’t let anyone see
She could stay here…
She fears the light shed on her scars
Her idiosyncracies laid bare
There are cracks in her skin
A needle and thread in her heart
This quirky, patchwork woman may frighten you
She frightens me…
When reflected upon broken glass
Muddied puddles
But, she is glorious art
She has Mona Lisa’s subtle smile
Exudes the sexuality of Venus
Stepping out from her dank isolation
She sparkles in sunlight
She has little confidence
Feels inadequate
But knows she must change
Choose a path
Persevere
You will be mesmerized by her performance
Enthralled by her dance
See the black swan transform
No…
See the white swan embrace herself

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2 thoughts on “Swans at Crossroads”

  1. I love this. I wanted to say so on your page, but, alas, I don’t remember my password any more than the mantra some “guru” from India gave me forty years ago. Sigh

    On Thu, Apr 25, 2019 at 11:21 PM thoughts, musings, and stuff wrote:

    > hellolauren528 posted: “Here she is at the edge of the tunnel A crossroads > on a narrow path Sun on asphalt Eyes adjusting to the bright She teases the > wind with a finger Now two She can’t tell its direction She is scared A > small step back Into darkness Into comfort There she doe” >

    Liked by 1 person

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