Saturday, September 24, 2005

the fragments


she couldnt admit to herself that some things had happened. the knowledge ran as parallel rivulets to her consciousness, causing explosive turmoil whenever the streams of thought converged. she watched detachedly as the rivulets swelled over the years. their waters would one day drown her reason, but as she could see no solution at hand, she accepted it all calmly.

her life had become a disjointed ball of quivering fragments. each shard danced with an intensity and life uniquely its own, each born from the tears that she didnt cry. some fragments would beckon her to the past, an unwilling slave, she would obey their call. her life relived in its most painful emotions again.. and again.. and again. the malicious fragment would dance away then, leaving her a trembling wreck. she couldnt help but sit captive in the middle.

she smiled bitterly to herself as she acknowledged the jabs of the vicious shards which weren't supposed to exist, "so that's what ms. woolf meant". a small sigh escaped her lips. She straightened, held her head up proudly and once more resumed waiting.

patience can be a paralysing virtue.

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11 Comments:

Blogger Sea and Sky said...

very real!
very expressive!
though i don't understand the context, just a couple o' things that come to my mind:

"Arrange whatever pieces come your way" - Virginia Woolf (guess she meant this too)

Sometimes the malicious fragments and vicious shards need to be spoken to in the language of Maya Angelou:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

11:31 pm  
Blogger m. said...

sea and sky: i was grinning when i read that because of this - http://basicallyblah.blogspot.com/2005/07/victim-complex.html

11:37 pm  
Blogger Sea and Sky said...

Oh! :-)

7:26 am  
Blogger Jake said...

que pasa senorita ?

9:03 am  
Blogger KoPoS said...

pl enlighten this soul pl. what was the post about?

9:48 pm  
Blogger m. said...

yaaay! now i mustve truly Arrived: arty pieces that nobody can make head or tail of! :D

7:32 pm  
Blogger Eroteme said...

Nice piece.. I don't know how but I could construct that sphere of trembling shards (this word has such a sharpness to it, that it couldn't mean anything else) of green and blue hues, strung together by tenuous silver wires...
Very well captured. I like the way you end it... :-)

11:29 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ooseless!

7:21 am  
Blogger S. said...

In all those shards does she not find even one smooth edge? Easier said, but why do sharp ends always end up stealing the thunder from those nice smooth good pieces that mirror ones life?Then again wont u only see in the mirror what you present in front of it?

9:15 am  
Blogger M (tread softly upon) said...

love your style whether or not I have the capacity to fathom the meaning....

7:27 am  
Blogger m. said...

eroteme: be my guest, and may your ball be happier than hers! :)

"anon" : bat barfer, NO cake!

misha: erm. ask her? :)

m (tread softly upon): thank you very much :)

10:52 am  

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