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Or Why Does She Paint a Virtual Space For Silent Words? |
Sometimes she slips into folds of lavender hues, curls into daydreams; her open palm holds ashes of words unsaid, their symphony in gray minor fades away with every brushstroke dipped in desert sand, awakening dunes pregnant with gypsum roses now piled up on rice paper steeped with sunshine to color her ochre song. Sepias warm her heart as she carefully adds a drop of dew to fill its invisible holes, soften the contours of rebellious shapes and desires.
Oblivious of the passing of time, she enters a virtual space filled with silent words, watches the reflection of shadows dance over the walls of a resounding cavern while words break into syllables, phonemes morph into motes floating in the void, yes, her brush acquiesces, moving faster, yes, here lies the source of forgotten signs melting into shades of colors speaking only to her as she witnesses the birth of a new language.
(previously published in Knot Magazine copyright 2015)
copyright 2017
Hedy
Habra |
