while reading "knitting the wind"'s lovely blog this morning (knittingthewind.blogspot.com), i was struck strongly by a question that she posed: "...what weather, what form of story, what strange metaphor, are you?"
my answer is, always, that i am a palimpsest... i am many things---too many things---all at once. at the risk of sounding like "the song of amergin", i wrote this rambling meditation that spun out of my blog comment upon that question...
i am a basket holding a history.
i am a jumble of tales.
i am a princess in a tower, who loves each stone.
i am a princess in a tower, who longs for freedom.
i am the dragon who placed her there.
i am the knight who seeks to free her, or claim her.
i am a silenced sister frantically spinning nettles.
i am a swan calling over reed-fringed seas.
i am a fox guarding her kits.
i am snow falling softly on fields.
i am small leaves that may heal or poison.
i am a fragment of song that sticks in the mind.
i am breakage and mending.
i am not what you thought.
i am not what i thought.
i am a flower that blooms only at night.
i am the moon that changes, changes.
i am the talisman that kept my ancestors safe.
i am the smoke of the ones who burned.
i am the jewel that scars the hand that holds it.
i am a mat at the door, covered in shoe-prints.
i am a cat curled by the fire.
i am ancient oceans, my cells remember them.
i am a harpy.
i am a hearth-keeper.
i am the light of distant stars.
i am a creature of mud.
i am a step in the dance of life.
i am a thread-snipper.
i am a well that echoes with voices.
i am a map that i cannot read.
i am a woman who sleeps among thorns.
i am, i am, i am,
currently we have snow on the ground, snow-covered trees rising out of fog, and a pearl-grey sky. yesterday was bright and glittering, and ...
I went hiking with some people who were all more of the doing type, while I am only, or mostly, a being type. Partway through our planned...
Warning: Long, rambling, poorly-edited glimpse into the opium den that is my mind follows... I was pondering Baba Yaga, and went down ...
i tied a ribbon to a branch on some wind twisted tree alone in a field of snow the northern lights rippled above wild ribbons in the sk...