226. Cocooned in phrases

sometimes I wonder-

does a metaphor know when it comes by,
if I were willing to host it?

or does it meet with others of its ilk
to conspire and invade
my mind,
bumping into me
in condolences and congratulations,
pick-up lines and sticky notes?

I have been accompanied
by innocuous-looking idioms
all my life

they indulgently walk with me
through stories
through dreams
through thoughts

they guide me through unfamiliar mindscapes
restraining me, releasing me
coaxing me, coloring me

they pirouette on tongues of storytellers
they sing out of soiled pages

they carry a dozen emotions in their tow
and drown me in their overwhelming hues

they return to the graves of their origins
origins which had perished unnoticed
to recount their tales
of generosity and valor

sometimes I wonder-

how long does a metaphor live,
before it meets an accident
or an inquisition?
 
sometimes I wonder-

am I, their guardian?
 
or are they, mine -
making sense of reality for me,
where there is none?