The High Priestess of Self Talk

The Most High Voodoo Priestess of Self Talk is the one you need to watch for.

Not me or her across the room.

In your silent dragging across the kitchen floor, tea kettle whistling

She stands in silence beside you.

Her soft swirling whispers tugging at your ear,

while child tugging at your sleeve,

you are yet unaware of her consuming power.

A conjurer of heartache, pain and fear

she holds a mirror up to the face of others

--even to the face of God.

So wherever you look to condemn

you are seeing your own face.

The Most High Voodoo Priestess of Self Talk dances across a fire

the flames fanned by the same hands you fold in prayer

and wash away the dirt from your feet.

The singed edges of her skirt

will soon become your shroud

and maybe mine as well.

For she hides a pinch of salt and glowing ember between the ruffles of each heart.