And she said:
There is a softening that happens
in growing
and becoming
older.
I don’t see my reflection everywhere
made of fragments and glass
there is a fleshiness stretched over my bones
a softness.
And yet, there is tension there –
or something else.
A density, like a root.
I am also born from this earth
I have cried with her rivers
and danced to her beat
wept in her mountains
and escaped to her seas.
She breathed life into my life
I became the center of my world
as it is.
as it is.
As I am.
As I am.
And he said:
There is a hardening that happens
in growing
and becoming
older.
I see her reflection everywhere
made of fragments and glass
and I struggle to see her
the fleshiness, the softness, the blood
stretched over the bones.
There is tension between us, always
a glass that can break
a new offence, a past mistake.
But past the tenseness
is a denseness: a root.
An understanding that though her moods may shift
and she is always ready to burst;
the feelings run like currents on
the surface of her skin
The enslavement of the body
that she finds herself in.
But underneath a stillness,
a root that reaches deep. A stillness lies beneath
the shifting seasons and her feet.
She is the center of her world.
As it is.
As it is.
~ Maria Cronjé
Elizabeth
This poem really moved me. Thank you for sharing it
Janet
I am so glad that it has given you inspiration, Elizabeth! I hope you have been making art.