Photograph by Artist
A trickle of truth with the life span of a puddle in the midday sun. The stain remains as a reminder of it’s existence, micro minerals sparkling in an invisible realm. Truth surrounding us in tangible invisibility … is it all about faith?. Believing in the transformative moment, waiting to wake up to the possibility of creating something real. My faith remains hidden in the rich silt, like the distant waterfall in memory of a moment lived. I am pushed to enter into the fray and create new moments or I shall drown in these stagnant waters of past glories that shackle me. In a strange way they keep me safe and stuck … feeding off the marrow of the carcass that once walked in the wild.
All this talk of freedom makes me pound harder against the glass of containment that has grown up around me. I long to be barefoot again yet I do not remember how to untie these boots. The solutions that once worked are fragile and broken, rules have eroded and evolved. Looking into the void I see nothing and have no patience to let eyes adjust to the total darkness of what may be. So I shall bind myself to this chair and wait beyond hunger for my eyes to adjust and begin to see glory once more.
All the murmuring expectations will take time to run their course and I do not know if they will ever really be silent, but I hope. With hope there is fertile ground for positivity and for now that is more than enough.
Naomi Brosnan 