Second Layer

Caught between light and shadow, the fabric of our lives slips through
time's fingers, quietly, with soft shoed steps and cadences.
Its layers elusive to the naked eye, the fabric feels deceptively one and solid.
Not unlike our vision's eyes and dreams, it is only the traveler there who can see
the invisible once night flees before the call of dawn.


The stitches on the fabric's patterns a language all our own, with markings
that reveal only what we can tolerate to be seen , our naked souls shivering
bashfully without the warmth of blankets to cover our deepest fears and longings.
I could not bear for you to see me so revealed, so vulnerable and real,
as you too, pull tighter the clasp on your own crimson robe .

Second layer, deeply hidden within the smooth first layer of our heart and mind,
rarely revealed, rarely shared, will you ever notice it is there, in all its golden shimmer
and searing delight? Will time ever look the other way, as the fabric rustles past
the forest where everyone hides beneath the sturdy oak of oath and pride?

Passing over me like an eagle's shadow on a bright blue sky, I wonder if you too
look up into the wideness of the air, and catch a fleeting scent of my breath reaching
to touch yours in your own muted flight?


Trudi Ralston.
October 10th, 2016.