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