liminal, as you correctly put it. Time forbids attachments, to self or other, and we court madness when we attempt to do so. This is the danger of photographs, as I understand it, and what your poem illustrates very well.I'm grateful you shared your fine piece, @mamadini, which explores the same slippery territory...
Speaking of which, I'm still digesting your confessional piece from a couple of days ago, and stuck on the great tenderness with which you address the final darkness, a sentiment I'm familiar with and have also explored in my art. I quote you to you, and feel I might also be paraphrasing myself, from a poem of mine:
O Death,
the one companion whose promises mean something
You that have been my compass
and sustenance
Death, you of the ever-burning eye
Your closeness is that of the mother's
I never had
Soft sigh
PS - Emboldened by your share, I attach a link to work of mine. In the poem, titled Allegiances, "Destiny's son" originally read "Death's son" (but I chickened out pre-publication...)
I feel joy that you brought up that rather hard piece (not hard for me any longer as it's all been ironed, rather for those in observance) -- the gritty stuff bears such fruit and I always recognize in others, as I do in you. ;)
I am on my way to read the piece you linked here, thank you.
I adore the title "Death's son"! That piece should be done in spoken word. What a familiar slant it is, especially the third section "Key-bored", it had me in a rather riled up way saying to myself "Right-on" as the words ring true and bring on a sense of rebellion in me and yet, we are moving deeper in that reality. . . Sadly.
Tickled by your warm enthusiasm, M, much appreciated 🤓. I’ve actually never attempted to read this poem outloud, for what it reveals... Though, I’ve shared, publicly, such winking confidence:
I understand what you mean when you say it’s not hard for you, any longer, and I believe/hope/pray that I’m, finally, moving out of these cramped, dark spaces and, tentatively, into the light...
One way that I’ve found helps is to view the past as necessary, somehow, a dark blessing required to take me to the next level (as person and artist). I hope that makes some sense to you 🙏🏼
Indeed it does. : )
:) Thanks, for this nice exchange.
Yes, thank you as well, it was lovely. :)