She walked into her bedroom. The bed lay before her, a vehicle for her dreams, a portal to worlds beyond this one. An escape from the world of reality which can be so dreary at times. To the left of the bed a lamp with geometric shape casts soft yellow light onto her bed. "Come," the light says warmly,"take refuge here." Above the bed a painting on square canvas displays a round bird cage. Upon the cage a bird perches, delighted at its freedom, with wings tipped in gold that glistens with magic, a trace of the magic from the woman's dreams caught in reality, frozen in time for her to see in waking hours and inspire her to keep going. Don't give up.
A mirror casts back a reflection, a double of the woman. This looking glass exposes to her view the stranger everyone else sees. "Know me, love me, let me love you." The woman's eyes say this. "Become unstrange to me," they say, "so I don't have to fear you ..." they implore.
Her cousin Jenny's wooden jewelry box sits upon her dresser, filled with magic little trinkets she finds here and there: a rock in the shape of a heart, the first tooth lost by her son, a ruby freed from its sharp metal clasps, a dried rose from the casket of her Grandmother, just little precious things, memories.
The box is lined with red velvet and on top are the initials J.M.D.. Along side those initials a painted butterfly stretches its wings in suspended flight, suspended much like the moments in the box. The box its self is a suspension. Jenny flew away at age eleven. Leukemia made her body so light it just flew away, her skin so thin it couldn't contain the great soul within. But Jenny meets with the woman in dreams, not a stranger, and other magic things like her mingle as well.
In this small box-like room the woman can be only she. Naked and unjudged she can breath - in and out - and sigh aloud. Confined in this small space she is free. Safe just to be. The room speaks to her: "Rest here, lay down your worries, lay down the burdens of this great troubled world, and just rest."
A mirror casts back a reflection, a double of the woman. This looking glass exposes to her view the stranger everyone else sees. "Know me, love me, let me love you." The woman's eyes say this. "Become unstrange to me," they say, "so I don't have to fear you ..." they implore.
Her cousin Jenny's wooden jewelry box sits upon her dresser, filled with magic little trinkets she finds here and there: a rock in the shape of a heart, the first tooth lost by her son, a ruby freed from its sharp metal clasps, a dried rose from the casket of her Grandmother, just little precious things, memories.
The box is lined with red velvet and on top are the initials J.M.D.. Along side those initials a painted butterfly stretches its wings in suspended flight, suspended much like the moments in the box. The box its self is a suspension. Jenny flew away at age eleven. Leukemia made her body so light it just flew away, her skin so thin it couldn't contain the great soul within. But Jenny meets with the woman in dreams, not a stranger, and other magic things like her mingle as well.
In this small box-like room the woman can be only she. Naked and unjudged she can breath - in and out - and sigh aloud. Confined in this small space she is free. Safe just to be. The room speaks to her: "Rest here, lay down your worries, lay down the burdens of this great troubled world, and just rest."
No comments:
Post a Comment