The space partitioned by electric wires And anchored to the ground by the poles Is well and truly caught. They cut my vision – Straight lines across unending undulation Of hills and clouds. Ugly not because Of shape, but due to insular connections – They only touch each other, not the space They fracture with the guiltless disregard Of those unaware. Rest in peace My endless space Available in pieces.
Today the sky is low overhead. It’s paved with clouds – small and hard; It presses down, hue and weight of lead. You feel hemmed in an empty prison yard.
Today the sea is cold and oily-still, reflecting cobbled sky – grey shades on grey. Today the pain is harder to conceal, as heavy blankness saps your strength away.
Today it’s hard to leave the past behind you try ignoring sky and sea in vain. They press too tight, you panic, deaf and blind. It’s hard to move, but harder – to remain.
You trudge through empty, foggy, silent streets the road is uphill. The hill is high. One foot in front of other, body leads. Insensibly, you walk into the sky
And on you walk, along the cobbled sky, the sea above reflecting endless plain. To see the world anew. To say good-bye. To greet the sun that burns support away.
Smoke slithers along the embers, fire dances and undulating lines are feminine, rhythmic, slow, soft and sinuous, mesmerising… Slow time feels sticky, like syrup.