100 Years of Solitude

your distant voices call to me.
alone in my shroud
I, think, frozen
that you should wish me
naked.
curtains drawn,
veils fraying, neglect--
to the careful disposition
(solitude)
thus woven.

your voices grow ever louder:
"yield and be unburdened!"
ah, that you should know this
(huddled)
terror.
secrets tightly bound in
shawls knit silent.
I can find no movement.
I will keep your voices waiting
another clouded morning.