Saturday, 1 February 2014

On 14:09 by Victoria Stanham   No comments
Standing at the end of a road, I look back across the trodden path and see, stretched before me, zig-zagging and crackling, a huge scaly river.
Imagen cortesía de Karen Shaw
The serpent, the great golden serpent, has shed its skin, and her old sheath now sprawls out like a gold and diamonds river, scintillating in the dawn.
I loved that skin, I knew it, I had learned to use it for connecting and defending myself, that was me. I look at myself now, naked, white, small, unprotected, and I recall the battles fought using my old armour, which now lies victorious on the earth awaiting its return to the elements.
A light breeze brushes my skin and I shiver. The sun shines and I burn. A bird trills a note and I lose my bearings in its song.
Imagen cortesía de bejim 
Gasping for air I tumble onto the earth... grounding, grounding, grounding, for god's sakes grounding... who am I now? where do I find my self? in what will I recognise me
Longingly I look at that old skin once again, but I no longer see me in it, it speaks no more, beautiful... but someone else's memory. I touch my own skin, white, new, hipersensitive.
Scales, I need scales, new nacre, gold and diamond scales. I close my eyes and I can see them, they are already there, impalpable, intangible, awaiting Life's passing touch to manifest themselves. The elements' breath shall make them visible...combing them like feathers.

I wait.


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