The grace in the way things move feels
like the fibers of a mantilla veil until
the wind blows and turns
grace to something
worthy of fear.

I've got everything going
and they're all wondering if I'm coming
along but all I want is to keep
going my own way
even when I'm a little lost
in deciding what really is my own.

I've got the veil
I've always had
happy to know I had much more
beneath than beyond
but I think he proved me wrong.

The trouble with going
and still going strong
is that I do it best when he's gone.

I know what I want isn't
the best thing but
I want it just the same
nobody could blame me either way.

Now the wind's blowing
and blowing embers
burning my veil
clean away.

I'm finding all I hid
was worth something
to someone besides me and now
that I'm happy to be
alone they all want a piece.

Content beneath my mantilla watching
the best and the worst inch by
I had no Holy Week
and kept no days holy but my own.

Burnt to the scalp
I'm learning to dance without
the skirts and shawls that made holy
what I thought it had to be.

Fear driving my fingers to Flamenco
twists and my feet to wind-blown flames
I've got nothing to lose because the worst
is mine to claim and the best
isn't coming but going
my own way.