January 01, 2020

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I, Reprised

January 01, 2020

My own words marred by perilous thoughts of a more sensible journey, purple sun, you’re color blind. The words of a stranger tear apart two more. I bear witness to my own departure; the only one left sitting in the pew – service ending abruptly, four years and four months ago if the date matters more to you now than it did then.

I, brittle, my words a reflection, cannot fill a page. When I do the verses flicker in and out of sight, thinner than the paper I press the ink into, bleeding into my skin more than it should.

I, tired, my thoughts a reflection, cannot starve these hands any further for fear of lack of grip. When I tie my shoes it takes longer than my excuses can bear, shaky fingers threading silk into an apology.

Lately I’ve been spending my days learning to unlearn the thoughts I accepted as a gift, wrapped tightly in your arms, if I run my feet follow ten steps behind, I love you like a run-on sentence. 

- Cassandra Dana

in the distance

June 07, 2017

Preamble: This reverie manifested from an experience of going to the countryside after months of living in the city. It is an attempt to express the perceptual encounter with the surrounding rural landscape and the horizon line.

In the distance

the snow lifting in pieces cutting your view into arrangements

in the rear view

the faint country house slides off

 

Behind the fence and down the faded tire tracked residue of a laneway

you notice the long-passed obstacle of something undone

 

The snowcapped trees

perpendicular, horizontal, curvature

 

In that faint house

out in the middle of somewhere

the centerpiece with smoke rising melts the top of a snow stacked roof

while warm bodies hide in the womb

 

Underneath the bent pine

in the middle of somewhere

almost nowhere

 

And every passed snow trekked trail, rusted down car, dilapidated barn

every animal track and barred up window and door

an imprint

 

She won’t give it up though

her mystery

not today, not any night

her “children” watch you trying to watch them

you are just too fixed on this being somewhere and not just anywhere

 

The taillights winding down, fading with your imagination

you wander down the snow road wondering

who else would wake to this?

 

In the distance

you fade out with it.

Photo by @inthedistance

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