Like the sisters of fate,
I weave the fabric
of my life
out of words;
strained, cracked,
sometimes broken.
The right words coupled
create voices, make tales;
repeat often enough,
they tell me who I am,
what I am;
they become me.
The tale is always wiser
than the teller. What
flows from one, flows
from many;
tales made from
flesh and blood, childhood dreams,
lustful lovers by the salient sea,
invisible currents of what was and
is become visible in me.
Stories are life, my life,
blood pulsating through
my veins, life as I tell,
as my stories tell me.
I become my stories,
my stories become me.
(by w. craig gilliam, 2017)
