She Wanders
She sits at her window, spinning her thread,
weaving all the patterns she observes around her.
The patterns never-ending.
Her spinning doesn’t stop.
If you look closely, her web is intricate.
It shimmers in the sun,
her silky creations illuminous.
People are afraid of her darkness,
the way she moves through life,
tiptoeing, dancing across household floors,
scared of being stepped on, squashed, and tossed out.
Imagine being in a room,
feeling like tiny prey
but being treated like a predator.
Poor Arachne.
