In darkness, we surrender as if by choice
To muted slumbers, in safe delight.
But it’s the tiny blackbird that finds his voice
There in the daunting dead of night.
His song cuts the silence, filling the sky
And from it, a spreading symphony is born.
Indeed, it’s the fire in your spirit which must never die,
Let it sing, like the blackbird, at each new dawn.
Her unconquerable spirit burns,
A blinding phoenix within her skin.
From the embers of dreams left broken,
Undaunted it rises, and rises again.
(To my friend, a raging flame who is as wild as she is strong)
She thought of these moments as solemn secrets kept by the raging storm, its howling winds perfectly disguising the cocoon she was hidden safely within.
The warm peace in the room heavily contrasted by the landscape at war with itself just outside the window. Two worlds existing in the same moment. The one out there, the one in here.
“So much like life…” she mused to herself, getting up to refill her cup, “only that usually works the other way around.”
She gave a rhythmic twirl to the sound of her favourite song, causing a disruption of music and candlelight around her, the tiny spaces between filling with her laughter.
This was the safest she felt to be herself, alone with her own thoughts which all seemed to drift into comforting perspective now. Her mind was never quite this clear, her spirit never quite this at ease.
Whistling winds echo towards you from every, and no direction
Enhancing your isolating abyss of desert sand and heat
Disrupted only by the clanking of the chains, the infliction
Shackled around your neck, and dragging at your feet.
With each mile you gain, it sinks deeper,
Growing heavier in your wake
The way forward, you know, holds many more miles
Which seem to multiply, each step you take.
There is no map you are following, or promised reward at the end
Only this direction you have chosen, and from it you will not bend
You slow to a complete halt, taking in a laboured breath,
And with courage, you turn to face what you were dragging
Something you have not done yet
Dropping to your knees, you begin to pull at the chains
One arm’s length after the next
Armed with only the self-belief that remains,
Your struggle ends now. Now, you soul finds rest.
As it is drawn, the chains’ hue fades, becoming less opaque
They become easier and easier to pull from the sand,
Freeing an anchor of clear crystal, delicate enough to break,
Weightless, it shatters in your hand.
Rid yourself of this burden, you do not need it,
Go now, in any direction you choose,
Your mind is no prisoner, you have freed it,
Its only by doubting yourself, that you can lose.
It was only when the shapes began to form on the horizon that she understood why she had been moving in this direction for as long as she had. The water’s surface began to breathe lazily beneath her feet, as if waking in the light of the new day.
At first the shapes teased her sight with flickers of light, like twinkling fragments in the distance, catching her eye in the rising sun’s rays. But the closer she drew, and the brighter the new day became, the more flickers appeared, multiplying before her and merging into visible shapes she could almost identify….. Almost….. She kept moving forward, her gaze fixed on her destination, her body warming with the golden haze intensifying around her.
After a few more paces, she stopped walking, staring ahead at the picture that had just slowly painted itself before her. The mystery of what she was seeing began to rise with the breeze and whisper around her in the cool morning air.
But… how? How had they gotten here? It wasn’t possible…. But then, what was IMPOSSIBLE out here?
Rooftops…. About thirty different, perfectly detailed rooftops. Protruding over the water’s surface. Standing strong and proud, though misplaced in the centre of the ocean.
Her curiosity evolved quickly into a wild sense of adventure, a thirst to find answers. She grinned with determination and began to race forward over the ripples to meet them.
She moves so gently over the water that it barely ripples beneath her feet. She makes no sound.
Lowering herself to sit on the surface, she bends her knees and presses her feet into the depths. She lazily swishes them back and forth, feeling the warm water move around them, between her toes, beneath her fingertips as they trace the surface softly. She takes in every detail of her surroundings.
The ocean continues endlessly, whichever way she looks. Strokes of golden purple hues are cast across the net of clouds above her by the setting sun to her left. It warms the side of her face and body gloriously.
The air around her is electric. It dances in tiny, nonsensical patterns and whispers a thousand sweet truths against her exposed skin, creating a charge she feels revived by. She cannot remember the last time she breathed with such ease. Each inhalation infuses her, the turmoil within steadily dilutes and eventually shrinks away – replaced with a clear, untainted energy. Awakened, she becomes more and more aware of the sensations in her body, the rhythmic beating of her own heart within her chest, the movement of her own energy occupying every space beneath her skin. She feels alive again, resuscitated after the heaviest of conscious slumbers. Her connection to her own existence renewed.
There is a silent purity here that she is now both filled with and overwhelmed by. It is here that her undying spirit ignites. It is here that she finds herself again.
TheRuthieRose 