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Becoming
culturally enigmatic
my energies
seek equilibrium
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fast moving water
caressing stones
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Print: Kiki Smith
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Tag Archives: Archetypes
The deep
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small rusted tacks 
holding my toughened skin
to bone
to muscle
like pictures cut from a magazine
pinned to the wall
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I’ve given up looking for saviors,
no messengers with bright news.
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I see only inside
this heart
cocooned
deep
in the warm darkness
listening to the words spun
from the silk of the stories
we’ve given wings.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/striatic/133146861/”>striatic</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a>
Night mirrors
In my winter dreams
I look for seeds that have curled up in dry dark corners
caught there when the floods washed through.
I pull away the broken limbs and detritus that collect
and watch the seeds that float to the surface
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Like mirrors end to end
they shift and turn
reflecting the barbed light of other suns.
Birthing memories.
The only heat sometimes is in memory
passing through the heat of the wound.
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I wake from these dreams disconnected
I have instinctively stretched out in time.
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Deep in the night
no birds singing yet
waiting for light.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Stillness
All you see is the glow from the warming fire
The cold night
the bright moon
your breath in the air
Stillness
I often pull myself together in the YWCA pool, swimming laps… water therapy. I joined the Y initially to cure my fear of deep water. I can float and swim but for some reason when I try to tread water I sink to just above my nose. For months I dangled around in the deep end with a very large floaty. Then I discovered swim fins. Continue reading
Archetypes
Winding down
inside the mountain.
Fingers tracing the edge of shadows
Trusting
this is leading
to air and light.
Spinning slowly
arms freed from gravity’s holding
into the deep.
I used to think archetypes were stories we collectively tell ourselves that eventually, over time, become the fabric of our personal considerations, but now I understand they are more like skin. More real, more intimate than the clothes we wear to define us. More intrinsically ours. The calluses, wrinkles, birthmarks and scars.
It would seem that in order to have weight, to be as intrinsic as skin, an archetype would have to hold more than just story. We are our skin. Skin is experiential in every sense. It is our largest sensing organ.
Going deeper…individual cells make up the structure of skin. Cells replicate, know their purpose, are in relationship with other cells, have memory.
Archetypes are both the macrocosm and the microcosm of skin. Experience and memory.
photo credit: D. Sharon Pruitt at http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/338444355
Poetry of Light 