THE CORNERS OF THE ROOM
If life has corners,
I was born in a black one,
with my gray head down,
but my dark eyes vigilant,
watching for the slightest turning,
the misplaced glance,
some curving of the earth,
that hides the horizon
where I only see in periphery
I find looking out from corners
is much easier than looking in.
The Presence in the Whispers,
who does not live in corners
lures me to ballrooms of love
with honeywood floors,
and dazzling chandeliers.
I envision gracious steps,
but am left footed and do not dance,
and there is no wall out there -
nothing to guard my back
or hide my shame.
In the Valley of Shadows
dangers lie, and banquet tables, too
beneath the misdirected gaze
of ever watching enemies.
There I hold aces over eights,
and guard against other players,
and interlopers who hide in mirrors
or in that blue haze at mountain's base
that artists never capture.
It is all about perspective
which I think I lost
when I first found the safe corner
and felt the sweetness
of my timid shoulders
touching two walls at once.
I would run there now
to sort between my sin,
my shame, and my shying. |