Home desert gives free flow to
freeze frame in strange pattern space.
Bring up processing tension weight release…
Guess I came here to do this. Forgets how spikey old memories that never
happened, to you,
looping trauma patterns.
Shared together, held alone
in empty expanse,
Wider scale than eyes can, tiny details,
perfect flowers at miniaturised, shrub plant, thorns, focus.
Desire to weep, unknown difficulty, but I know I will and invoke safety in it. With all its vaguely teeming with snakey mambas, stacks of bones, its endless vast potential to be lost, this place is safe. I feel it’s gentle hum deep always, and although I am filled with age old chasmic sadness, tears lurking,
it holds firm, steady soul, parental hand in rattle boom storm.
All the stories here, although weighty and familiar, are still stories.
Karoo continues, ta ta ta, ta ta ta, train – hosho rhythm.
Silence. Wind in howls. Wide winged beings taking flight.
Depths in dust.
Connections as they are: loving, strong, essential
will come through.