I.
The awkwardness of intimacy gained through thoughts put on paper,
Words unspoken, ideas laid out,
A persona that lives a stolen identity.

The question of authorship: when will I own my words?

Reaching out to an unknown reader, listener:
Inviting you to eavesdrop on my inner conversation.
Feeling like the morning after--do we talk about this?
Or do I stuff my underwear in my pocket
and go home pretending I am still wearing them?

II.
Like a Unitarian going to confession I must speak my sins
Not in search of forgiveness
but rather in search of the kindred,
a listener in the shadows.

These pieces of me are droplets of water
Poured in a libation
Welcoming friendship
Remembering promises.
I will be my word.

These droplets of water are a christening
As I name myself
And a baptism for the voice which speaks my self
Again and
Again
And again.

III.
I am Sarah,
daughter of Barbara,
daughter of Marjorie,
Daughter of Frances,
Daughter of Barbara;
Mother of Allyn.

Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again:
Blessed be.