Woman–Who–Stands–Alone

   by Pamala Ballingham

Woman-who-stands-alone
skirts the outer edges,
avoiding conventions
that steer the crowded herd, 
knowing the Shift will come,
in its time,
                        …when they notice.

It always does –
she smells it like rain
in tears that smash
like drops
of tarnished silver
                        …on cement, hard –

fleeting shadows
on the wall as they fall
from paper puppets, and their
paper tears
that disappear with the light,
impermanent.
If they knew
                        …they’d be surprised

by the shifts that come
in kaleidoscopic moments
that make shadow plays,
unfixed and mercurial,
on the wall –
while she walks the outer edges
                        …waiting.