for Big Tent Poetry prompt: 7/9/10 play with a pair of words in opposition*
Tangled Perfect Fit
Watched you, no more than eight
or nine, listen intently as therapist,
young stranger, spoke of family Myths.
Saw eyes come alive, light up,
when she spoke of good little girl
who thinks she has been missed
because her wheel doesn’t squeak,
so needs no further attention.
Saw you reach for it, grab hold,
try it on and pivot to that reflection,
moving to feel of another reality, liking folds
of fabric, how they could hold skinny
barely learned perceptions. Heard
your sigh of contentment, like coming
home to settle back, relax in immediate,
if only momentary, comfortably
Have often thought, through years,
how much I’d like to go back to that young
woman, ask her if she ever learned
that Truth within Myths changes over
time, as we grow, begin to climb, find
need of longer sleeves, looser folds
to hide behind, and capacious hood
for inclement weather. Tell her,
it isn’t good to tether self to such
as these, to hinder movement, bind talent
and ability, constrict and cramp breathing
soul, restricting flow of growth toward wider
thought and feeling.
Wish to tell her to remember that Myths
are built from only bits of Truth,
as malleable as youth, still in need
of deeper wisdom. No more than legend,
meant only to extend invitation
to further knowing, spoken, never carved
in stone, nor are they labeled, One size fits
all, and must be worn forever.
Elizabeth Crawford 7/9/10
*My apologies to one and all. This is what happens when, in a rush, you misread the prompt and instead of ending up in Spokane, you find yourself in Miami, lol.