She regards her life's colors -
a house lately silenced, lilac drapes,
the calico patchwork of purple,
in the secretive rug,
as she follows her thoughts' path,
stucco roughness exploring
her hands' widening journey
along darkened walls,
an escape grown nightly familiar.
Left upstairs, remaining light's threads
weave lost patterns;
in the breath of keen winds
whispers of destiny closing.
Sister lionesses hunt the dark,
"join us" she echoes their thoughts
as the future stalks, recedes
silent, more ready.
"Not yet", the familiar walls,
the abode's creator within her
calls out, knowing
that time will erode
stone's harsh safety, earthtones succumb
and openness runs like the blood
in the heartbeat of hunters, her clan
while time stays patient
until she fits
in the scheme of things.
© Jon Bohrn (2002)