There is a voice full
of sound and fury
wisdom resounding
and yet I doubt, I fear
I lose my way in the face
of another
I forget the magic of
my own miscommunication
when patiently attended
unfolds for me in meaning
clearer than another’s words spoken
Thus I’m drawn to wonder
why is it ever I hesitate
read every line as if it were my
body moving through the rhythms
fail to realize it is all written
inside
There is no message on the floor
no where to look but feel
the fabric of my self
crafted slowly
in intricate detail
a solitary motif
followed throughout
This is my work
I cannot show you what I do
I have to watch and listen
as the patterns are woven
out of my being
over time
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