As deep down as possible. He buried his emotions diving into it as deeply as. Into the deep sea. Taking every new day, every new night in. Clouds. The passage of time. Breathing in, breathing out. Diving in again, making his feelings for her his own, burying them deep down below the earth’s darkest layers this time. Below the sea. Remain strong. He must remain strong. Untouchable. Wounds, deep. Scars, invisible. ‘It’s alright. If I don’t think about her, my feelings will go away. She will become a faded memory’. A lie, he tries to convince himself of. But, he knows, dreams of it. Sweats. In repetition. Every day, she is transformed a little more into a lingering ghost in his subconscious. A spectre. Moving below his level of consciousness, she has transmuted into an unattainable ideal. A symbol of the feminine archetype for him. Not knowing this, he walks around without seeing, trapped in the veils of his own blindness. His heart, chained to her. He can’t shake it, shake her off. So, he pushes it further down. Deeper. Deep down as possible. To the earth’s core.
photo: Ryan Muirhead.
3/11/2016. 17:05 hrs. Light cloud, 7 degrees Celsius, Southeasterly wind (6 miles per hour)
Twilight. Light reflections on water surface. Million stars, spark of life. Rebellious glitters. Pearls. I am standing on the edge of the shore, almost touching the waters. Reaching towards darkness. Waiting for me. The waves beat their drums in a rhythmic chanting… Calling back the forgotten, lost sounds of the sea. Darker seashells. Our walks on the golden sand beach last summer, hand in hand; traces of feeling washed out by the tide.
26/10/2016, 17:22 hrs. Light cloud, 15 degrees Celsius, light Southeasterly breeze (8 miles per hour)
The river is quiet, silent at dusk. It’s surface, silky. A few whispering waves here and there… The more I watch it, the more I see it changing… A lonesome man is walking on the beach. Looking for something. Some familiar object? Shells he will take home to his wife and kids? You asked me once ‘Where is home for you?’. My home is in me, inside me, I am home anywhere I go. This river, the skies, the smell of the ocean, the sound of seagulls…
20/10/2016, 16:57 hrs. Sunny intervals, 15 degrees Celsius, Northern light breeze (9 miles per hour)
Time by the river goes by slowly. I wait for the vessel to dock, record the current weather conditions, the wind force, the probable ship’s velocity. Like a captain would. I imagine a ship’s cargo containing human tears, love strings of meaning… Again, I am reminded of my long-distance attachment to you.
Across the ocean I stand, I wait. I wait for a sea-pearl-song.
19/10/2016, 15:37 hrs. Sunny intervals, 14 degrees Celsius, Northeasterly breeze (12 miles per hour)
The calm hour at the shore. Sounds of kids playing on skateboards after school reverberate, form small waves on the surface of the river. The tide is high. No separation between the skies and the water; they’ve merged into a grey mass unfolding in front of me. You. Me. The separation line between us. That minimal, significant difference.
Copyright Mina Ray 2016
of its roots,
that awaits the
the silent image,
of air, sonic
that needs its
over the letters
s, z, or
to cross over
to the position
He misses her