Posted by Marla | Filed under Uncategorized
My body remembers all that has ever happened. You live inside of me…still. and when the shell cracks, it oozes out, and when it’s perfectly shaped, you can choose –to know or not know, to remember or to forget (56 minutes ago clear)
I cannot oust you simply because I will it. And I do not will it. I have learned from you, many lessons, and I have been loved by you, many lessons, and I have loved back, many lessons, with all my capacity, I have loved back – physically, I gave to you a lot of me. The me that lives inside my body, that very few know, although some may suspect – and I gave freely, willingly — out of a desire to have you know me, so you could see me as I truly am and decide. Friend? Lover? Artist? genuine? false? Loving? Manipulating? Giving? Taking? Woman? Human?
I was splayed out
Colors freely running down the canvas
Sometimes just a few teeny tiny random spurts
The Canvas is rearranged
It looks so different now
And the enthusiastic paint may have overreached its mark and sprayed your face, your hand and so then you too whether willingly or not had become part of the painting.
Not on purpose.
The artist does not always have control over his art.
The art as we know has a life of its own.
…. and I gave freely, willingly — out of a desire to connect with one I already had felt so connected to, it is difficult for me I admit to leave well enough alone, because once interested I want to go deeper and deeper and deeper finding out as much as I can, and unfortunately or fortunately I have limitless energy and so sometimes/often I cannot stop, I am compelled to continue — I mean how deep does this actually go? Is it indeed infinite or is there an actual end? And even if infinite should I stop? Surely I could die of exhaustion – or elation – a very very very old woman lucky to have known / felt / touched – a life of love? When is enough enough – or is it ever? If I lost interest then I would just turn around and exit – what does one do when one does not lose interest but still must exit?
Life has its own way of answering these questions.
And I pray that I am open enough to hear them when they sound.