s a c r e d

[ditriana]

doorways open
open all around and through
teeter tottery tipping point
and beyond.
hold held holding
i melt into the wooden floor
as i slide, slat after slat slips from under me
the floor holds me.
i am held

held through the journey
making shapes. moving forth,
a tinker, a tailor, a traveler.
reaching a destination--a destiny?
destined, i reach.
my head--my hair--
the source of a woman's power--
(that's in the Bible somewhere, isn't it?)
my scalp is supple and clean
my hair hangs down:
tassled curtains framing my worldview
cherished--
i find something delicate,
a delicacy.
no longer do i need to hold on--
letting go,
it slips away onto the wooden floor.
a bell is rung.