RE: Transmutation: (day 3 of 100 -- Poetry Challenge)
Bangles, like chains that we put on ourselves. Turning a means of being diminished, to means of enhancement. Turning something that would keep us closed, to something we use to project strength. Women are meant to be seen and not heard? Then turn jewelry meant to be seen, into one's own percussion set, announcing their coming and going.
It's interesting how in Left Ventricle, dealing with the same memory, with the same phantom of your past, that you are the apparition, yet here it is roles reversed, with you being real, and the memory surrounding you, half-real, half-forgotten.
And yet, he's bound to you. Bound to you by your own hand. Clasped to you, jingling as you move, tinkling as you pace through life. Past experiences are bound to you, bangles you've donned. And they are the patina that adorns you. They are the lives that echo through you as you speak, and sway.
"Back there / electric air." I really liked that bit.
But is the ghost ever absent? Because it isn't. A loop. Like a bangle.
I was never raised by anyone that indoctrinated me into the "Seen and not heard" crap, thankfully. I come from lines on both sides that have fostered empowered women, I am the product of such free-thinking, wild, out-of-control, sexual, strong, intelligent Women, that I myself feel tame when I look back to those Ladies. The energy is potent in me and I yield to no one as a Pavlovian bred dog.
I be WILD
and Rebellious
I be Loud
and Potent
Untamed,
FREE (as a soul can be)!
I am only bound by my heart. I set him free years ago -- In fact I left as I always do. These bangle chains are cast circles of remembrance, of beauty, of melancholy as a natural reverent quality, they are dust and I bone turning to dust, just like everyone else.
Scott does not hold me back. His memory warms me, makes me smile, and reminds me how much I can learn when I push out of my comfort zone... do things that seem scary and unwise. It was passion on such a deep level that the chains that link me back to him, year by year, link by link are Holy, Holy, Holy, and can be taken off at any time should they start to cut the skin.
My Scott, the one I knew is a ghost, yes, as I am from that life so long ago... but not one trapped in a loop, looping round unto itself... it’s a helix, moving along a continuum.
Love your thought provoking comment here, you got me on a bit of a rant (in a goodly productive way). :) Thank you, dear Guy.
I know you love you some good rant. And it's always nice to hear passion rising in you, rather than only see it through your work.
I think it can be intriguing to look at art and its messages, even if not necessarily true. Isn't that close to what you believe in, of letting the art speak? But art is light, and light casts shadows. As much as it reveals, it can obscure. And it can reveal what is not real, while obscuring what is.
Letting the penumbra seep in. Almost and never-reals.
<3