The frumpy lady in her nightgown
And cow horns on her head
Inspired strength and fortitude
Upon herself
As if plastering walls
Or shoring up foundations
With the delicacy of a rhino
Self-talk became a blur
Of mantric phrases gone senseless
Beginning with “You will”
And the ever present “You are”
Until cooked together for hours
Into a sticky tar-like substance
Silence, peace, joy, bliss even
Are welcomed here, whenever they arrive