Never a voyeur

Enough deconstruction, enough looking backward upon that ocean of feeling that is the past. Within that ocean, islands of traumatic memory became the land upon which identity had been built. Those islands of pain were the focus of years of feelings. There, tangled and distorted flotsam lay washed up with the unavoidable jetsam, discarded and … Continue reading Never a voyeur

Swimming home

Slipping into cool dark waters, finger tips, mapping the grain gently rest upon the edge of a wooden jetty. Tipping my head back, water fills my ears and caresses my eyelids. Below, reaching into the fathomless depths, kicking, I feel nothing but the swirl of current between my toes. Above, silently hang still rivers of … Continue reading Swimming home