Blood Memory

Memorybox_naked_in_the_rain

The blood it remembers.

In the gush of memories,

That are now expected,

That I cannot fathom,

The bird within my breast

Fluttering, insistantly

against my ribcage

If only I could free

The trembling bird

Without losing myself.

 

errant.

Ear parcel: Smith & Burrows ‘Wonderful Life’

Image courtesy of Naked In The Rain

Surging tide of light

sunlight

Delicate strands of desire curl lovingly but fleetingly

Within neurons that spark shattered dreams

Wisps lost to daylight and the hustle of morning

Recovered in sensuous sensation, a poem tasted

On tempted lips, tracing words with my tongue

My soul ablaze, memory flushes, mind and body

Ripe with creativities muse as she dangles her feet

Skipping toes in deep waters, quenching souls

With her laughter and delight, skipping stones

Across eons, the twinkle in her eye, a star violent

With life, vigorous, alive and ready to surge

Through sluggish neurons flushing them with life

 

I have been indulging in a little Wuji Seshat Nibada today and felt this tidal surge…

image uncredited

Keepsakes

Raven and Lockets

Mementos tucked safe within the locket of my mind. Words whispered, voice hushed and raw with emotion. Hearts thunder when reciprocated love revealed. A shooting star that blazed in earnest while in silent embrace we watched enthralled. Scent from the base of your earlobe. A pressed flower from the field of our love. The sound of your approach. Tears shed in shared grief. The hum of satiated carnal delight. Sensations and images varied, sharing only the thread of our narrative, one I pray will never end.

 

Image courtesy of Phedre1985 on deviantART

Imprint

Crack in Time

I carry them within me, beneath my skin. Sensory experience stirs them and they awaken, pulsating thoughts rich with reminder. Eyes closing, breath stirred I tenderly hold the moment awoken beneath fluttering eyelids. Submerged inside, closed from the external I can feel them and clasp them quietly without witness. Can you see their palimpsest upon my skin? Does my history converse upon my body? Momentarily suspended the emphatic now is muted in contrast to then. Unfurling in stillness once again I am whole. They are forever lost to the present yet always carried within.

Words and image by errant satiety

 

Absolute

Grass Field

When I was a very small child I remember roaming through fields with my brothers and our neighbours. I have strong associations with those times as being part of a unified family group, a feeling of intense and absolute belonging, with no query. The fields we wandered, full of long grass & wild flowers were fenced in by immense oak trees, which seemed to me as large as gods. I remember horses whispering warm breath on my small cold hands, climbing lichen & moss covered fences and gates crossing seemingly endless vistas of grass.

In a new home many year’s later these childhood meanderings developed into solitary excursions.  Rather than safe explorations buoyed by my extended family, they became a search for haven, escapism from the mundane repetition of everyday routines and a longing to recapture the state of being previously taken for ‘absolute’, the search for a sense of belonging. Our family had fractured and dispersed, each alone beneath the same roof. Seeking hope and a place to belong I ran through the long grasses and delved into observing the neighbouring fields and the lives played out in them. Countless hours I spent lying perfectly still on my back watching the grasses sway around me, the insects, the birds, absorbing the sounds around me, watching clouds skid across the sky, drinking in the smallness and the bigness and seeking answers to the question I had: were others feeling this same sense of aloneness? It took an entire field to hold my aloneness yet I felt my wholeness, with nothing to impede it, could fill the sky.

I wrote something at this time, something I stumbled across today. Young as I was I was trying to explain where I danced from:

‘If I dream myself alive, I will awaken, I will live. I evolve alone, alone but whole. At peace, I seek depth.  Touching the real, really living – can you see that I am alive? This is where I find the dance’ – twelve year old me.

Words by errant satiety image from Stefan Olivier

In my thoughts

Image

Alone, drifting rudderless through my mind. My raft jetsam gathered for review. Concepts discarded too aggressively, emotion overriding cerebrum. Ideas partially evolved, orphaned too soon. Memories rediscovered from fragment of scent. Dance reinvented by change in era, by change of heart. Situations seen anew cast in a differing of seasonal hue. Entire books re-read only to discover I was the author. A self re-emerging, birthed fresh with opened eyes. Instead of cleaning out the closet I find myself re-stacking the shelves.

Words by Errant Satiety image by Kyle Thompson