Afsun N
She had set her mark, the marks of her long thin fingers, fingers developed before a complete heart or brain, she has left the marks of those tiny pink fingers in the inner strings of her heart, yet she evaded her canvas, her stanzas, her calm. She sometimes felt it was her fault keeping her so close when she had left even before she arrived.
There was this discussion on the radio the other day that brought everything back. The words were designed to keep her out of the debate while discussing every aspect of her as if she was not real. She was a conjecture, an if. She turned it off and still was not enough. She pulled to the side and just sat there for a while. She thought of the certainty that was so solid that made her put her own life in danger and about necessity of doubt.
Yes, how doubt is necessary even when you are witnessing that dance, beholding it, even when that space seems to be pounding, palpitating with joy dear, dear so you can't allow anything but certainty.
Those fingers had reached deep. There was a pause between their reach and their touch and all her words and strokes poured into that space in a dance like a honey bee, like a humming bird. It was bringing them back out that stung. Then it was the devil's laugh. Then it was the white cormorant who fled the lake in a sudden jerk and she then could get a glimpse of the tip of her wings.
She had set her mark, the marks of her long thin fingers, fingers developed before a complete heart or brain, she has left the marks of those tiny pink fingers in the inner strings of her heart, yet she evaded her canvas, her stanzas, her calm. She sometimes felt it was her fault keeping her so close when she had left even before she arrived.
There was this discussion on the radio the other day that brought everything back. The words were designed to keep her out of the debate while discussing every aspect of her as if she was not real. She was a conjecture, an if. She turned it off and still was not enough. She pulled to the side and just sat there for a while. She thought of the certainty that was so solid that made her put her own life in danger and about necessity of doubt.
Yes, how doubt is necessary even when you are witnessing that dance, beholding it, even when that space seems to be pounding, palpitating with joy dear, dear so you can't allow anything but certainty.
Those fingers had reached deep. There was a pause between their reach and their touch and all her words and strokes poured into that space in a dance like a honey bee, like a humming bird. It was bringing them back out that stung. Then it was the devil's laugh. Then it was the white cormorant who fled the lake in a sudden jerk and she then could get a glimpse of the tip of her wings.