I was born in distrust. Its place in my heart well nurtured—suckled on a
diet of disappointment, failure and even success. Dancing with wanton
desire over my flesh bound landscape, its rhythm—a dirge of endless need—beat
upon my soul, demanding, berating; denying until finally its sustenance grew
thin. I no longer fed its wants.
Aged footsteps, the pattern of their dance exists even now: a contour of
hills and valleys, steep precipices and jagged arêtes. I explore these slopes
and dig deep within their geology. They no longer scare me, these shadows from
the past, but support and sustain me.
The call of the seagull pulls me forward: a longing, a search for that
which is not yet held but faintly discerned in my heart. A sweet siren of hope; melancholic notes of
coming home.
"a search for that which is not yet held but faintly discerned in my heart." Lovely work! I hope to see more from you.
ReplyDeleteThat means a lot coming from you, Kristen... thank you. I highly encourage any one reading this comment to check out Kristen's blog and chapbooks. (www.thegoodtypist.blogspot.com
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