Through half-lidded
blinds, shift with a twist
of tangled strings, slatted
shapes, patterns diffused, pull
the drapes aside, long-used
lengths of textured lace, a speck
on the glass freckles my
face; a quick shift sends
dust into slices of
dim space, held on
an unseen air that
lifts it to the light.
Does the dark create fear, curiosity, or both?
What do physical and emotional darkness feel like?
What is the opposite of dark?
We’re at our halfway point, my friends. It feels like it’s been forever. It feels like we’ve just begun.
These prompts often take me in unlikely directions (isn’t that the point, to find something new?). Maybe it’s my mood this morning – cup decidedly full, physical pain notwithstanding.
My first image was of me as a kid, lurking next to the piano because that’s where the big windows were, the easiest vantage point for the moment when their car pulled into the driveway. I’ve spent a lot of time questioning that anticipation, those moments of disloyalty to myself. Today, I felt something curious in the word, tangible… neutral.
Dark is just a thing that blocks the light.
I think that’s what I’m reaching for here. I can’t obliterate the past. I can’t reclaim the years I spent with the wrong story about myself, with an incorrect set of shapes distorting the truth.
I can’t erase the past. But maybe I can rearrange it, so that the light hits the places that deserve it most.
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