Everything Here
I still sit in absolute darkness. A voice. A soulful voice which becomes a place of shelter, a resort: A voice to heal the wounds of darkness and to chase the ghosts. The three artists speak out images of the past, sitting on the floor when light slowly guides us out of the darkness, their voices put the memories in place.
The person (being me and anyone who finds the shoe a fit) who this poem would reach out to is someone who has worn her sad like a uniform too long and is tired of the way it hangs useless on her body, how it grips on parts it should let go and lifts with the wind of endless sad experiences.