Stone breaks the surface
Of a void expanse
Empty to the edge of nothingness
The spare rock
Forms a peak atop a slope
Extending down I know not how deep
So I dive
Into the depths
To find the foundation
Of me
So that I might rise
Knowing the nature of self
And walk the featureless plain of me
Into being
Occluded skies
Reflected in a secluded cove
Cold, still water
With the clarity of glass
Now I
In this diffuse, scattered light
See the depths in crisp detail
A bed of granite
Obscured by sand and silt
In this, I see myself
The bedrock of me
Beneath a sediment of memory
And these beneath the terrible weight
Of experiences so fully repressed
As to be rendered transparent
So I stir up the bottom
Cloud the water
See what patterns emerge
To reveal the dark matter that is the forgotten me
We skim the slate grey
Beneath a gloomy grey
In our crimson coats
On our speedy boat
Exuding a rainbow of glee
A bit rickety
And in disrepair
Could use a fresh coat too
I tell myself every morning
Dragging this body out of bed
But it’s got a good number of years in it yet
Abandoned
Neglected
Forgotten
Failing
That I find the beauty in it
Renders the experience
Of encountering it
All the more
Painful
Discouraging
Disturbing
Heartbreaking
She reclines on the porch swing
Sways with gentle breezes
She loves this spot
Overlooking the bay
Always the picture of calm
Even if the sky threatens rain
Artful reflections
Flow over glassy waters
The ominous clouds tempered
As the wash of a watercolour
On which her mind paints
Stories of transformation
In the morning
A mug of americano
Vapour wafting
With the scent of roasted bean
Then the garden
No more than a thin film
Of rock-strewn topsoil
Spread over a bed of granite
Now the afternoon
Pinot gris
The bottle at her feet
Chills in a bucket of ice
This afternoon
Began earlier than others
Though not the earliest retreat
She may not need
To replenish the bottle
Some thought her broken
Even brittle
But all the brittle
Had broken away
In countless storms
What remained
Was hardened
Tenacious
She’d shed many facades
Until what was left
Was what she chose
To keep
She kept nothing
For perfunctory friendships
Or pettiness
Able to withstand any hardship
She chose carefully
What to stand for
And who
Content in gentleness
She suffered no one
Who drove hard upon her shores
If some thought
Walking away made her weak
She walked away
While they washed out to sea
In the off season
Lobster traps wait in repose
Fishers count the days
Pix to Words 