I have a handle on my space and contents.
My vacant hollow.
Or the items of which I house a dozen odds and ends.
I always know what I possess or what may be un-there or missing.
To study my physiognomy, one might think not much or lacking.
But closer on inspection. I am near divine and worthy of great travels.
A true companion of love and comfort, recognition, the familiar.
I have been held in such clutch and such a love storm by my mistress and her values.
She takes me aboard a thousand footsteps, always holding on and never once ignoring.
Mostly I am there to steady, to balance her or witness.
She sometimes shuffles through my soul in search of needy things,
like painted sticks and looking glasses of which I keep most dear.
She searches inward and there she looks inside my sacred space.
Full of painted stick and looking glasses.
I am my lady's handbag. ~D. Roby
No comments:
Post a Comment