This week’s theme for the Weekly Photo Challenge is ‘Reflections’. Of course, as with so many of the themes, this is wide open for interpretation. For once though, I’m going to stick to the literal theme and share some photographs of actual reflections which I hope you’ll like.
As I press on with my memoir this week (you’ll be pleased to know!) I’ve been doing more than my fair share of deep ‘reflection’. I’ve bashed out two blog posts just this morning in an attempt to describe where I am at the moment in my writing journey but I’m not so sure that even then I’ve been able to adequately do so. Some serious cutting and pasting yet to be completed that’s for sure.
There are so many writing voices screaming at me just now that I’m having trouble keeping single-minded about it all. I’ve got a fiction assignment to get out, I’ve missed more than one competition deadline which I’m not happy about and I’m also chasing an article submission I made to a magazine a couple of weeks ago (too early, do I wait a bit longer I wonder?). I also have a couple of freelance blog posts to write. So what am I doing instead? This blog post of course!
All-in-all, I hope to steer through this muddied mess and plough ahead once again and get moving. Rolling up the sleeves, keep on keeping on. You know what it’s like. Meanwhile, I’ve written this poem as I reflect upon this constant tug-of-war pulling at my thought-patterns and search for clarity. Peace? Fear? Loss? Silence? Who knows. Maybe I just need a hug!
Silken touch lingers upon my face
The touch of cool melting
in the chase;
For only in this silent dream
Does my heart slip into your deep embrace.
Though caught in the grey of shadow’s path
Lurks the ever-present threat to the
peace in my heart.
Grasping, sighing, falling, dying
Where wait we must for the
Calling out from the deep where the
Lost Voice seeks
to be heard, understood,
Laid out as it slumbers in deepest sleep;
Yet caught up in ridicule so that in laughter
We both might weep.
Let your touch linger then, upon my face,
in the sweet sadness clinging
like rain’s damp taste;
For a thousand promises still hiding
in the grey, so at last, melting deeper into
(c) Sherri Matthews 2014