out of the old stories
Each on a garment
worn and reworn
One by one
she loosened the buttons
and they fell away
behind her on the trail of her footsteps
She did not look back
The chain of stories clung together
Rattling from her silent throat
Reeling out in
Great loops that lay
like the harmless shadows of snakes in the dust
Where other travelers trod them unheard
The old skin shed
Layer by layer
As her body moved forward
step by step
Into presence
Until she was
Naked under the sky
Only her feet bare on the ground
Only her new skin
Smooth
Feeling the wind and the drops of rain
Only the word now
on her tongue
That she tasted and savored
And did not speak.
[From Spiritual Directors newsletter, date unknown]
