With words and images, I am telling my story. Through art, through sculpture, I am remembering HERstory...CASIMIRA
Sunday, October 23
my chest, an open window
"Don't worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks, it doesn't matter.
We have fallen into the place where everything is music.
The strumming and the flute notes rise into the atmosphere, and even if the whole world's harp should burn up, there will still be hidden instruments playing.
So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.
This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.
Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!
They derive from a slow and powerful root
that we can't see.
Stop the words now.
Open the window in the centre of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out."
I dreamed my chest was an open window...and I woke up thinking of this poem, wondering what spirits wish to fly in and out of me...
Copyright CASIMIRA on 10/23/2011