when I wonder, am I beautiful?

collage 18.3

I think of a flamenco skirt

slowly sinking beneath the water.

As in one final dance, the fabric

wrings itself of its woes

and when it softly lands,

yielding to a new condition of being

compressed by boundless volume,

gladly forgets the world prior.

Encompassed in the wild life

of endless mystery, the skirt,

now a threadbare soul,

allows itself to drift;

not wishing to be current,

nor the wave, but knowing always

it was the ocean who answered:

you are. 





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s