Courage Before the Party

A tight fist of emotion sprouts flames in my chest and I fan the flames with a chilled smile chiseled like the block of ice stored in the freezer for the party. I have stood empty as a discarded seashell, perhaps a clam's shell, whose pearl should sparkle like the sun spattered sea, that is its home. But it gleams like the moonlight castings its light across surfaces- changing them to white or silver, like the tops of carved glaciers, drifting as they change the shape of the earth. Too heavy am I to walk on these surfaces, even if they are frozen. Seabirds wind up and spin lazily, calling the wind for their flight- or at least to float momentarily, like my spirit, needing so much to be released.