Pull Your Own Strings
We are connected
in invisible ways
to our fears
we are the puppet
& the puppeteer,
the victims of our
expectation.
Silken threads pull,
arms & legs
flop & jangle.
We dance to the music
of our fears
bodies crouched inside
children hiding, pretending,
under that rock
behind that tree
someplace, everywhere
not what we control.
Pull your own strings
move into your body
& to the beat of life
cut your strings
hold out your hand to
the unknown,
walk in the dark
open your arms
to the embrace of air,
make them wings
that soar.
-- Gayle Spanier Rawlings
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