Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Blinks and Heartbeats

I'm weighted down but hollow and I feel like the dull thud of a shoe kicked off onto a rug. My great aunt passed away this morning, and I'm aching for her daughters and the sky is a gorgeous clarity and I'm just staring at it, and then at my keyboard and then back out at the blue.

There's a photo of Aunt Dodie holding her great-great-granddaughter and it reminds me of when I photographed my Grandma's beautifully crepe-skinned fingers surrounding Molly's newborn silk hand. That kind of time enthralls me. Generations. It makes the seasons into blinks and heartbeats.

I can't grasp anything out of that perfect sky or the sadness in me that is so tiny compared to those women who lost their mother while the sun rose up today.

I just need the doing of the writing. It just feels so directionless and pointless right now.

My pain is better today, the muscle pain shrinking down into a knot in the left side of the small of my back. I'm too restless to keep lying here but too tired and sunken feeling to move anyway. Too empty to keep pursuing words and trying to force meaning into them.

I will probably fall back to sky gazing and beingfeelingdoing nothing and knowing it's alright to let nothing just be right now.

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