Our Lady of the Circus

 Ms God Almighty

© 2014  Madelaine Nerson Mac Namara

Are you not the tightrope

the see-saw umbrella

the wavering pendulum

of the dance of my arms?

Are we not each other's

first step, last call?

You are beat of the blood

in my ears, in the hearts

of watchers crying out

in fear, in hope, uncertain

of my fall, of your own

of their safe return home.

You are fine silk ribbon

gathering wild curls

you are net holding tight

stray strands round my head

you are net and hammock

and the swing of my life.

I walk among whispers

stop and start silences

mighty, mean, miserable

mysterious meanings mime

you uproar arrivals

interpret clapping hands.