Maija: good morning xxx
Maija: my day yesterday was demanding and today will demand more of me. (show up, show up anyway?)
Maija says: there is a conflict between Inside and Outside
Rapunzle’s tower feels so tempting today
Anger burns up the walls
from the furnace of my heart
Come close and the flames will lick you
yes, Dancing in the fire
That’s my idea of a good day today.
Alchemy transforming the elements at my borders
New crystalline mementos…
not gargoyle heads
not medusa heads
not lion heads
not papyrus or paint pots
flowers! yes, flowers
Blooming like the night lily
on the border between sky and pond.
Maija says: there is a conflict between inside – outside.
Do I keep up my walls
and perform, stoic as a buttress?
Do I dress myself in crocodile’s
in a moat bordering my childish upswell
with a warning snap to give me time?
Time to feel
Time to think
Time to respond.
Aha, see, there is the conflict
Truly I don’t fare well alone with my thoughts
Alone with my words
Alone with my ideas,
Running round and round in my head
like stale bread in tin.
There is the conflict:
How easy it would be to withdraw from the not me,
the not wanted, the not cool,
Paying the price in rigid conclusions
and stony constructions encrusting my mind with
a labyrinthine resolve to protect my ideas of self and other
Suspended like a moth in a specimen glass
Against my instinct
I need the outside, the other, the
input battering my keep
with the energy and colour of a summer rain
creating rainbows in the autumnal chill
The phenomena of intra-action
The entanglement of multiple beings
Be-ing in this life
The place between this Inside mood
and Outside pull tugging at my skirts
like twenty cubs, or a vigorous wind.
How many mothers, parents, sisters, brothers
feel harassed by the pull of other world desires?
Two worlds meet in the space between.
I don’t really desire solitude,
just a place to stand where I can be;
Be one of many on the lily pads
Drinking from the top and bottom
of an ecosystem that supports me
the ebb and flow
the administration of a normal life
as a dead weight
pulling at my ankles
I long to float
Like your lily pad
Skimming the surface but deeply knowing
What is not the way forward
With strong capillary action
depending on the day
I am precious, as all animals are
I, a lone tree, within this forest,
In the November wind
not forever more
This valley with its trees,
abnormally large toads
Wondering the valley looking for their someone to save
And when I am on the rock
With nothing to say
I can merely respond
To your beautifully descriptive prose
Rightly demanding space
Not the physical jutting for the clinical
No, not the institutional
But the metaphorical
A harmonious co-existence
Death and life
Do not search for resolution
Only the next question
In this series
Ask the trees
Feel that wind
On your skin
Build the structure
They will listen
As will I
Maija: your words are music to my heart
sarah misselbrook: I read our ‘words’ to my niece and nephew over Skype last night. They were transfixed!
Rapunzle says: where is the border? Are you real or are you a voice in my own head? The words have become their own creation independent of the separation of I and other, today that is a gift to me, a year ago it was my prison.