Cris de Borja

Instead of stone, I will be paper
Conscientiously, with simple folds
remembering what I have already learned
Several times over.
I am folding a thousand cranes.
I am seeking calm in valley and mountain
and traveling toward the understanding of
where patterns fall and rest,
the solace of geometry.
Restraint is not control, and control is not peace
In this exercise there is no place
For scissor cuts, for the force of blades
on something that will not take
the shape of my wishes.
I have stopped counting
the ones behind me and those ahead.
At my peril, I will be paper;
Within me, enfolded, the breath of my patience.

9/5/2005