How early morning light

Discovers a new pucker, a fine line

The crepe of hands unwrung from fear

Too many years I was hostage to you

Terror

Thinking age would only color more vivid

That anxious sickness, a trembling nerve

Raw to this unforgiving gallivant

Pills can only gloss over the root

Purple and bruised

It is not enough to look away

You will meet in unguarded moment

Yourself

Bilious with trepidation of this gift of life

We have

Glass blowers of naught and much

Configured our trajectories

To eliminate handling this butchers theatre

We poise through fingers held before our eyes

Seeing segments and no practice of

Wholeness

Given to calm souls

Seeking just enough

I do not know how

To carve peace

Like a white horse out of chalky cliffs side

To stand as marker

When the sea gathers her cockled skirts and rises

Over our heads

**