.jpg)
Daaera
a circle, widening through change,
witnessing a return to self often carrying a former heaviness,
but with a clearer sense of why it must be carried.
Loss remains, but it is still ours.
.jpg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
Under an umbrella, inside a closet, in someone’s lap or beneath a blanket, we take shelter where we can.
Our bodies curl; the environment swaddles us, and for a while we feel held together.
.jpg)
.jpeg)
Yet, in the same breath,
there are moments when we tear through our surroundings and push against their edges.
Something shifts. Our circle expands.
Yet, in the same breath,
there are moments when we tear through our surroundings and push against their edges.
Something shifts. Our circle expands.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Daaera
The kernel glides through the room.
A family sits at the shore, almost utopian,
we enter youth: lush green fields,
bodies linger at a distance, some watchful,
night settles; clouds gather, the air thickens.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Unfolds through flashes, textures and rhythm,
The kernel glides through the room.
A family sits at the shore, almost utopian, we enter youth:
lush green fields, bodies linger at a distance, some watchful, night settles;clouds gather, the air thickens.
A quiet rupture.
A heave chimes in softly. Glare. A blast. Fanatical flutter. Migration. And after violence, one returns to oneself.
_JPG.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpeg)
We are all animals of loss.
.jpeg)