Saturday, 3 December 2011
Some days she thinks she could outrun it, just run, run until it is far behind her. An itch builds under her skin and an ache in her chest, urging her to hurl herself into that wind and vanish, run until her bones twist and bend, until they form limbs meant for something older than this place, run until her hair smells of the dark places of the forest, damp and earthy, and until she is so tired she could sleep the winter gone.
Some days she thinks she could jump, she could stand on that edge with nothing but vast air before her and jump; her raven hair would untangle into feathers, sleek and inky, and her outstretched arms would set her free.
But not today, today she is of this world, tethered and biding her time.
I'm posting much more on my tumblr blogs these days, SilkBones and of course Ink and Light Arts, I'm not sure if I have any readers left here? Would you follow me on twitter if I started that to link all the blogs?
Today it's getting cold outside and I'm cold right down to my bones, it's been some of the hardest months of my life and I'm struggling but I'm going to write away those deep, mean reds and just let it go... Today I love good friends and kind words, I love the smell of peat smoke so much like home and the deep green of this land, I love, as always laughter through the rooms and loathe petty anger. Today the woman I want to be is beauty, grace and kindness, she can weather this, that future she wants is within her grasp once more and one of those books on her shelf is all her own...