April 11, 2013

SONY DSC

Rocks and Green and Darkness and the Surface

There is more distance today when I dream of her. Not the pink and lace and smiley faces of hanging grade school crayons. But of claws and festering wounds and racing heart beats of wolves and the running within their nightmares. Wadded pieces of trash with only lips and cheeks line a cliff’s edge; exposing torn flesh, peeling it back until something unrecognizable surfaces, red black, underneath slippery moss. As its blood oozes, dries and is wiped away, curious strangers begin to emerge. Lifting hand to face, eyes bleed fear; all of the bodies turn white, leaving no trace of human existence as juggling seals move in, fin by fin, braking, bones fly through the soul, reminding us of healing— Seas crash onto rocks to renew its sand. Mermaids reach for answers on sinking ships; breathe is taken, reborn, and the moment we wake, those fading brown eyes, they simply follow as you walk around the room, from their perch on the wall. Safely, away from ones thoughts.

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