Cocooning

A poem by Cheri




















I am a shifting mosaic
unsure
where all the pieces fit
sure
that some broken parts have been both lost and found

My gypsy soul wanders the wild wilderness
of Forty
circling back and around
daring to walk
bare
the sensuous feeling of mud between toes

a little thrilled
a little scared
of this beautiful, holy, mucky mess

"Help me stand. . . " or maybe I should pray, "Help me stumble"
to my knees
as I stagger from the drink of
New Wine