When the Feeling Comes. {poetry}
{source}
When the feeling comes,
it comes like a landslide —
there is no escape,
no pocket of breath to breathe into;
the ground gives way,
and the house — tiny already on its
fragile foundations — folds inwards,
the soil compacting in around its frame,
swallowed whole.
When the feeling comes,
there is no warning
other than the distant drum beat
from the valley on the other side of sleep’s edge —
a dull thud echoing out across the horizon,
beckoning a response,
tender, from a chest that can no longer find its
little compass.
In these climates,
there is no sense of making sense —
no vital constructs to busy away upon,
no textbooks or user guides from
which to find a quick-fix cure.
Emptiness rips a whole being inside out and,
thrown upwards like a leaf in a tornado,
one can easily see how
she took to the river bank and loaded
those rocks in her pockets,
seeking release in the infinite flow.
Memories entangle with memories –
a glance, a piece of silver, a
flower presented once,
yellow with life,
a pair of baby shoes buried in the garden,
and a night
high with the perfume of possibility,
his smile
glinting like a switchblade in the dark.
Approach your descent with care,
fasten your seat-belt,
and remove all jagged objects,
judgments and words.
Do not close your eyes to the sky falling away
or your mirrored gaze fragmenting into
a billion shattered pieces of glass.
Watch carefully for what will emerge.
Feel the quiet presence of your being
solid in its limitless grasp,
shifting in its terrible grace.
***
Lindsay Alderton likes images and words, and emptiness and form, and isn’t ever just one thing. She helped create the Ulex Project, a training center for activists and change-makers across Europe. She’s interested in plurality of existence and what makes people burn. She explores this through pictures, poetry, and movement.
***
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