Woman on a Bed

I decided to abandon the 30 questions. Big surprise! If I need to get inspired, I can refer back to them but something different for now…

Half naked body in the heat of a summer-warmed house. Laying here: a speck in a vast expanse of time and space. Fan flitting wisps of hair, ruffling a blouse hanging on a chair. A woman on a bed. Half curled, longing. She is just a body on a bed. A mess of cells and skin with woman parts. Who sees her?

I see her from a distance and inside her mind I hear their wails, their horror-filled eyes, their empty hearts, their stopped blood-flow and forced breath, their will to press on in the midst of a fucked up world: a ball of matted confusion, all because something evil entrapped a body and mind and he went on a killing spree. His actions the reason for their empty souls and a nation shaken with disgust and incredulity and at the same time a deep down feeling of “I’m not that surprised.”

The towns of Aurora and Littleton and the nation that is so-called “free” and “united” and “under God” yet we seem to have our own brand of problems. Diseases of chaos, poverty, perversion.

She lays there at the mercy of a world so out of her control. At the will of a mind so active and a body that seems to do what it wants when it wants. Her brain and heart continue to war on and on. Can she be known as more than what they want? What she perceives herself to be? 

They see a woman as curves and moves and soft skin and finger tips. But who will notice her will; her passion; her drive for beauty, creativity, simplicity; and life and her commitment to her dreams, however shattered they seem? 

She is just a body laying there. She wants to be held with no expectation to give. She just wants to know her existence matters in this world of chaos, confusion, a world of massive killings that take away what is real: enchanting beauty; endearing, spectacular moments that you will never get back. How can this be the same world, so empty and full at the same time; so clear yet so bewildering; so tangible yet complex; so full of love, kindness, and beauty yet wrought with murder, depravity and despair.

Somewhere she lays. In a far off bed with cheek against tear-stained pillow.

I look into a blue sky with powder white clouds, cruising. Where are they off to? With birds and dragonflies and bees off in their own little worlds, their nonexistent brains keeping them free from confusion and the hate, that we as nameless humans are trapped in. Flitting about from leaf to leaf, zooming up and down and around the clouds, I long to have their freedom for just one moment.

Whether on the grass or on my bed, I will forever be a jumbled up mess, a mind constantly shifting with its longings, questions, quests, dreams, hopes, images. I can see insider her brain: images of peace. And I can feel it in her body: deep breath that feels like heaven. And I hear it in her ears: You can always have a moment like this. You must search for it. You must take time out for it. You need it to survive.

Written 7/21/12 inspired by my mind and the Aurora, CO shooting

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