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.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
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.
Request permission to use this poem