When her voice is weary
it means it is time to listen.
When her armor is heavy,
it means it is time to be soft,
time to slip out of her certainty
and her battle songs,
time to retreat from the lines
she has drawn, time to unknow
the world she thinks she knows
and to find herself in the world
that knows her. She lets the darkness
penetrate her, it caresses
her universal curves. Her quiet
joins her to an infinite quiet—
she is everything, nothing at once.
She relearns how vulnerability
transforms us in ways
ferocity can not.
She is her own fertile seed.
She is her own desert rain.
She’s her own cocoon, her own inner cave.
Sometimes it takes the darkness
to remind us how to be brave.
Thank you for this! Now I’m going to print it out so that I can easily read it many more times.
Thank you, Deborah, this poem I think is not finished, but it is one I have been wrestled by for a couple weeks now ⦠itâs a response to an image by Ruth Bernhard, In the Box ⦠have you seen it? I have been wondering and wondering about what is happening in that box. How did she get there? What is happening in there? What would cause her to emerge?
Happy Saturday to you!
Rosemerry
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
970-729-1838
wordwoman.com
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, May 6, 2017 at 12:06 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Before She Goes Out, She Goes In”