Unedited, un-anythinged writing drabbles
Feb. 18th, 2005 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lykomancerSeveral drabbles from my Writing the Spiritual Journey class:
The scent is rich, floral, as purples as the luminous clumps of flowers hanging like massive pale bunches of grapes from the woody shrub. It is the scent of love. It brings tears to my eyes. The heavy smell of late spring lilacs mixes with the refreshing, cool aroma of early May rain and fresh green grass, growing and new-cut. The grass is chill around my feet; drops of water drip from the emerald heart-shaped leaves of the lilac and spatter upon my bare shoulders, running down my body and plastering my tanktop to my skin. I stand calmly, wet with tears, drenched in nature's own cologne water, showered in love.
Green and purple... My world is washed clean, baptized in a new beginning, and I stand calmly at the edge of the dense lilac forest feeling cleansed, feeling whole, feeling that I am the phoenix. Moisture sticks my hair to my neck and I lift my face upward to taste the sweet flower dew. This is communion; come now, for the table is prepared.
Then Elizabeth asked us to make a list of unanswerable life questions, and then had us try to come up with an early memory associated with the question. Mine disturbed me.
...all I can think of is playing in Mary's (my childhood neighbor) yard-- running back and forth, dying multiple times, fighting for some important cause...struggling against imaginary enemies so that what was right could prevail, defending my beloved, invisible friends to the death.
"But in some good cause, not mine own
To perish, wept for, honored, known
And like a warrior overthrown..."
Flinging myself as the ground, spasming as the imagined blades pierced my body, watching my blood stain the grass... (A trickle slides down from the corner of my mouth.) Dying words of valor, knowing that I was a martyr for a cause that would not fail-- my mind's eye seeing my friends and comrades turn away, weeping and bearing my banner bravely, never forgetting my sacrifice.
--- Like an autumnal maple leaf sinking into a cold, still pool of clear water ---
Death is not triumphant; I succeed even when it seems I have failed.
I think sometime that this body is an inappropriate vehicle for the sublime. I want to destroy it so that others can see me as I really am.
The scent is rich, floral, as purples as the luminous clumps of flowers hanging like massive pale bunches of grapes from the woody shrub. It is the scent of love. It brings tears to my eyes. The heavy smell of late spring lilacs mixes with the refreshing, cool aroma of early May rain and fresh green grass, growing and new-cut. The grass is chill around my feet; drops of water drip from the emerald heart-shaped leaves of the lilac and spatter upon my bare shoulders, running down my body and plastering my tanktop to my skin. I stand calmly, wet with tears, drenched in nature's own cologne water, showered in love.
Green and purple... My world is washed clean, baptized in a new beginning, and I stand calmly at the edge of the dense lilac forest feeling cleansed, feeling whole, feeling that I am the phoenix. Moisture sticks my hair to my neck and I lift my face upward to taste the sweet flower dew. This is communion; come now, for the table is prepared.
Then Elizabeth asked us to make a list of unanswerable life questions, and then had us try to come up with an early memory associated with the question. Mine disturbed me.
...all I can think of is playing in Mary's (my childhood neighbor) yard-- running back and forth, dying multiple times, fighting for some important cause...struggling against imaginary enemies so that what was right could prevail, defending my beloved, invisible friends to the death.
"But in some good cause, not mine own
To perish, wept for, honored, known
And like a warrior overthrown..."
Flinging myself as the ground, spasming as the imagined blades pierced my body, watching my blood stain the grass... (A trickle slides down from the corner of my mouth.) Dying words of valor, knowing that I was a martyr for a cause that would not fail-- my mind's eye seeing my friends and comrades turn away, weeping and bearing my banner bravely, never forgetting my sacrifice.
--- Like an autumnal maple leaf sinking into a cold, still pool of clear water ---
Death is not triumphant; I succeed even when it seems I have failed.
I think sometime that this body is an inappropriate vehicle for the sublime. I want to destroy it so that others can see me as I really am.
