Karin Andersen

A shelter of withdrawal and paralysis,
lulled into passivity – half alive, half dead,
I stumble over a slippery stone
crabs scurry skewly.
Annaleen Erasmus.

 

 

Lost and found.

 

 

(Lost.)

 

 

She quivers, a tear rolls down her cheek.
Hot, burning, it sears her skin.
Grasping at the rough bricks, gasping
against the coarse wall,
she cries harder, hopelessly
shopping list crumpled in her hand.
A shelter of withdrawal and paralysis.

 

 

She half turns, stops, hesitates.
The shadows are growing.
If she stands still the flow parts
around her and rejoins.
It´s the only test that proves she still exists.
Lulled into passivity – half alive, half dead.

 

 

(Found.)

 

 

Walking, stretching, movement brings release.
The curve and tilt of the pavement,
wind watering my eyes
I move from the sea to the air to my feet.
Walked out here to feel my living, my life,
my existence on this turning planet,
I stumble over a slippery stone.

 

 

This rock has called me to stop.
I sit, breathe, look at my feet.
They carry me, confuse me, stumble me
onto life´s obstacles.
I am body, bound, earth, not ether.
An anenome waves questing tentacles,
crabs scurry skewly.

 

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