Wallflower

In the ruins of my former life
I sit quietly in the flowers
and embroider truth
into my skin.

The surface of my memory shimmers
and I marvel at the ways I am simply happy
weaving the thread in and out of the fabric
that has become  everything I hold on to.

My heart beats wildly
with so much loving.
My mind rubs herself
against the ankles of strangers
and then bolts when they move
to touch her.  She can't help but hide
under the porch until the coast is clear
and she is free to purr near her
most beloved friends.

Today I will dance,
if even by myself,
at the wall
where the corner is close
and a bench invites me to sit
and breathe
when it all becomes
too much joy to sustain.