Stephani Schaefer

1

you show us a face

not yours 

death mask

for the many who can’t speak

you don't look at us

but at windows too high to reach

you look

into a private world

where the impress

of fingers on skin 

and toes on wet sand

are only memories

the towel

around your head

is stamped

with the name of this place

how many years

does it take

for stone

to crumble to sand 

2

invalid who sits by a window

watching clouds

the wild bird you were

still caged by others' acts

in recovery, does your mind 

parrot their words

for now, don't think of anything

that takes effort

nothing as hard as

a clipped bird trying to fly

let go and drift with clouds

until you float

through the open window

3

ah labels - how many 

have they put on you

and then, you on yourself

throw them away

those years of journaling

delving for the smothered self

that's over now

take off your writing arm

and empty it of old words

dry as dust

be like the cow

unconcerned with naming

be hollow as a reed

that waits for your music

4

shake free of old images

ink blots

open the back of your head

where the snake lives

follow the path from there

to the third eye

clear-seeing

will come and flow from

your brush dipped

in fresh ink

It will make

new marks on clean paper

5

all is becalmed

before the unfolding

all that was prepared

may have to be undone

unwind the headress

the elaborate role 

and let wind

lift your hair the way it lifts

birds and scraps of paper

let the bird

settle in your hand 

unfold it

it has a new name for you

one that no-one else

has spoken

not even yourself

6

no longer fenced in

what were bars are now music

whatever was troubling you

tell it now

the hollow reed waits

for you to say your secret name

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