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19.1.11
the job part 2.
the sky begins to turn. peels off in layers of blue, green, bright glowing effervescent violet, orange-pink, the colour of blood in water.
the dust smells like the earth smells like my skin smells like the paper of things that used to exist.
everything is alight with the flames of evening. it is quiet to begin with. then i begin to hear something tapping, something crackling. the things that live. the sound gets louder and i stand, my body now powdered and greyed, i stand and tilt my head to the tree tops. the leaves shine, laquered black by night.
it is so long since i have heard a whole sound. not a portion of animal language or tree's breath, but a whole story of sound, getting louder and louder and moving towards me.
i run towards the sunset, through the trees and i see. filled with the warm liquid light of sunset i see, above the trees, the swollen beauty of purple clouds. my clouds. the air is filled first with the smell of copper, blood, then the smell of the trees and the earth. the clouds come toward me. the crackle now is a rush, a million tiny sounds falling together to one solid swell.
it rains over my tower, my trees, all the things that live. the air is warm and tastes. the rain comes, and washes me. where it falls, trails of wet run clean through the dust which coats me. run down the crease of my spine, on my face and between my fingers. the pregnant cloud which was purple on the trees, my cloud, is now above me, black and soft and wet. the sun still shines, the glowing alive light of a new sun.
the rain stops.
from here, away from my tower, i can see. for such a long time, i havent been able to see the whole of anything. a brick, a stone, a trunk, but not the whole of anything, the tale of left to right,
but now, i see. i can see to the falling sun, and the land between. everything is gone. i can see, i see trees and green and water for everything that was here before. a million circles of green leaves for every pebble of grey stone or glass that was here before, coloured fire by the light.
i see no past or future. i don't remember what these words mean.
i see me. i flow from the ground, i grow in the light. i feed from the dirt.
i feel the wetness. me. the sky is now pillowy velvet blue, a single scar of orange light splits the face of the clouds for the last stab of day. the hiss subsides and scattered droplets too heavy for leaves join me on the ground.
it is rain.
i am rain.
this is me.
whispered by killa b at 12:50 PM |
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