May 21.22: Coping, but barely

May 21, 2022 by Oddment 16 Comments

I have seen Medusa,

been turned to stone;

all I want

is to be alone,

relearn, perhaps,

to feel, and own

myself.

Ocean, wind

in husky roar

seem like whisper

to restore

some softening life

into my face

within a granite

carapace.

Bending low,

the clouds incline

to touch sky forehead

onto mine,

ancient seer,

patient, wise,

whose galaxies

miniaturize

my

 self.

I stood for years

insensate, still,

absent vision, soul,

and will,

while unseen chisels

from unknowns vast

chipped away

my body cast.

When I could move,

I didn’t much,

but cautiously

allowed the touch

of  breeze and mist,

permitted feeling,

holding back,

still not unsealing

myself.

 

 

There was a time in my life, dear reader, of concentrated loss including caregiving, illness, deaths. After the third death, but not the last, I found myself at the Pacific Ocean, utterly disoriented by the absence of walls. This photo brought to mind that moment.

Thanks to Carolyn Rogers at Wheat Salt Wine and Oil blog for the photo,

part of Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge.

This post submitted to that same challenge:

Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge.

Thanks, Dan!

(If you admire doors, dear reader, check out his Thursday Doors blog.

It will take you around the world.)