Static Electricity

Doldrums, "painted ship upon a painted ocean"
was the picture Col'ridge used but I am not at sea,
and from my window there is evidence of breezes
that are  trashing up the driveway with a thousand
acorns and the corpses of the leaves that gave us
shade back in the summer. I know the feeling, though,
of hanging static in a matted photograph of someone
else's concept of what it means to be a Christian or
a wife or mother, be conservative or this or that,
hemmed in by expectations from a world that
wouldn't think of asking questions that might lead
to understanding who it is I really am.
You've taught me that, the standard for an excellence
of kinship willing to dig deep, to mine the gold
I didn't even know was there, electrifying ions
in my atmosphere so that in dry times my
hair's unruly as my heart and when I touch,
a shock.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

Mixed metaphors, but life is mixed up, too, isn't it?