Wednesday, January 18, 2012

took only pictures

left only footprints. And I am back from my soul searching solo on the bluff. In truth, I took three things and left a charcoal message and an arrangement in bones. I spent my time listening and searching. I heard raven croaks, eagle scries, wind whistling and some party noises from across the bay. I sang a song to a skeleton I pulled from the earth. I climbed a madrona tree and took refuge between a rock and a hard place. I faced fear over falling branches and snowy weather. I wrote a story about treasure hunting, a letter to Scott's mom and jotted notes on an ailing ogre princess and her matte-eyed marshy husband. When dusk fell early I retired to my tent and learned how staying warm was activity in itself. When sleep came, I dreamed of the mundane ordinary, and fantastical heights. 

Floating skyward on a sheet, I let go of something precious, beautiful. Lunging, grasping, I wavered on soft edges. A steady voice called out. And then? I sat back. And I watched those bright orbs and twisted strands wander, unfettered, through the clouds.


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