Mairi sat the sit of stone, flesh as marble, skin the color of bone. Her hands looked old and dry, silent fingers drawn within. She sat the quiet as a tree roots the ground, watching the worlds go round and round. Clocks ticked, louder for the silence, ticking away a life, of moments forgotten. Hell is a house alone, of children grown, of leaves not raked and gutters not sewn. The alabaster heart beats as little feet, running toward, forever toward, the parent long gone. The days and nights come, taking turns, sitting, just sitting as we sit when there is nothing to say, anxious to go, belabored to stay. And upon the starlight a silent orchestra of motes, languid glitter, nature's confetti, respectful in their beam, quiet toward their slumber.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
654. The Sit of Stone
Mairi sat the sit of stone, flesh as marble, skin the color of bone. Her hands looked old and dry, silent fingers drawn within. She sat the quiet as a tree roots the ground, watching the worlds go round and round. Clocks ticked, louder for the silence, ticking away a life, of moments forgotten. Hell is a house alone, of children grown, of leaves not raked and gutters not sewn. The alabaster heart beats as little feet, running toward, forever toward, the parent long gone. The days and nights come, taking turns, sitting, just sitting as we sit when there is nothing to say, anxious to go, belabored to stay. And upon the starlight a silent orchestra of motes, languid glitter, nature's confetti, respectful in their beam, quiet toward their slumber.
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5 comments:
I know that most people, especially females, suffer from empty nest syndrome. Others may view it as their chance to escape, lol. Sorry, there's a story behind that. Your post is poignant. You brought some beauty into the hell.
Thank you Bel.
For those following the story, this chapter is a snapshot of Mairi, missing Dr X, who decided not to travel with Bravo after Polaris. The imagery used is not literal, which is to say, Mairi does not miss her parents or feel as a child abandoned by them or wishes she had children of her own; but rather, in my usually style, not always clear I'll admit, I try to show shards of a feeling, approach an emotion from several angles, each incomplete in itself, each a glaze that contributes to the whole just as glazes do in painting.
For example, the bit about days and nights is a reference to my grandmother and the visitors that come to see her--a glaze of emotion--visitors to one lost, as Mairi is now. Likewise, the poem within the prose poem of this chapter that starts with Hell is a house alone, again, is a glaze of someone stuck in the past, stuck in what was, one so immobilized they don't rake the leaves or repair their gutters, the image is of an old house, a haunted house, the house children in the neighborhood walk by quickly and tell stories about. Alabaster heart is a reference to a heart bled dry, bled white, of blood that no longer sustains live; yet, it beats for relationship, beats like children's feet, the feet that are running toward life, as children do before life beats them down--this is what a heart does, it beats toward; however, Mairi's heart, at this moment beats white, beats faint, not red, not with verve. I could go on and on with the other imagery used but my main point is this: take the imagery not literally, but as glazes, all trying to achieve what no direct hue, color, analogy or metaphor could on their own.
Poppet, as the ocean that creates the wave, the autumnal winds that blow the aubergine, crimson and mustard leaves, the falling flakes that turn everything white, when words you touch, beauty your create. Each time that I read something you have written, my heart feels fit to burst with the pleasure of seeing language arranged so lovingly, displayed at its most advantageous. It is there in sadness, it pain, in anger, in words of hope, in words of love, in all the words that you make your own. And you do it even in the title. I simply adore reading the words that you write.
And I adore reading that you adore reading what I write. :-D
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