Wednesday, August 01, 2012
A long quiet month.
Not for lack of things to ponder. For an excess of things, actually.
An excess of big, chunky things that just needed hush.
When I was a girl, I loved to stand in the pulling tide.
First the water rushed-- pushing, pushing.
Suddenly, it could push no more.
There, at its height, everything went still for the skinniest slice of a very slim second.
With the reversal, my bare feet were unable to hold their ground.
Upright, yes. But the ground beneath me ripped away, leaving little hollows in the places where my feet fell.
There are two departures coming up.
Certain as ebb and flood, I am unable to cause them not to happen.
Perhaps this last month has been lived in that shaving of time when water can neither advance nor fall away.
(I suppose that would be why I've found myself unable to speak or move.)
-lisa, 31 July, 2012