Rooted

 

my trunk is packed
but I remain
rooted to the spot
this time and place

creaking, groaning
twisting and moaning
as you breathe life
into these tired limbs

inevitably there will come
a point in time
pressure so intense
that SNAP, I break

Linking up with dVerse and Texture Tuesday

Burning Bridges

Coming to an abrupt stop, in front of a wooden bridge, her fingers traced the rough strip on a box of matches.  Removing one she struck it alight and caught the faint smell of sulphur.  The flame grew tall and began to dance as her thoughts oscillated between 'why' and 'why' not.

Seconds later, as the flame began to lick at her fingertips, she suddenly saw everything so clearly.  There was not just one bridge ahead but several, all interconnected.  Quickly blowing out the match she knew . . . . . today was not the day to burn bridges.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday.

Scintilla Project: Event Horizons

Prompt: What have been the event horizons of your life - the moments from which there is no turning back?

 

The movers were packed up and gone and the house now sat empty.  I lingered a while absorbing the silence and then, taking a deep breath, I began my check of each room and silently said my goodbyes.

 

Running my hand over the gloss work on the windowsill, tears began to prick my eyes.  My dad had spent afternoons here painting for us and through each brushstroke he had became a part of this house . . . . . part of this house that we were now leaving to set up home in a new country.  He would never see my new home or experience the country I was going to be living in for he had died a year earlier.

 

The hardest part was saying goodbye to friends and family with everything that had happened the past year but there was no turning back now.  As we drove to the airport, tears rolling down my cheeks, my husband took my hand in his and I knew that everything was going to be ok.  Our lives may be about to change forever but I began to embrace this new adventure we found ourselves on.

 

Linking up with Texture Tuesday.

Brain Fog

textured with 'mary'

The fog formed suddenly, creating a vacuum that sucked the air from beneath her.  Always one for proper etiquette he'd made sure to bring a gift . . . a clouding of consciousness that was bestowed upon her in a quixotic gesture. 

Voluminous shadows marred her vision.  Disorientated she stumbled and struggled to regain her composure.  It was hard to concentrate and she found herself scrambling to make sense of it all.  Rubbing her head with both hands she tried to remember if this was a memory or simply the everyday as though images from some forgotten dream.

As the fog languished she wondered whether this soupy sludge would ever dissipate, but deep down she knew . . . . . the brain . . . . .that was his favorite resting place.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday.

Texture Tuesday

textured with pumpkin, word and start

There is something about corn fields that freak me out.  When we were looking for a new house in Ohio the realtor looked at me strange when I said I didn't want one facing a corn field!

Maybe it's because they feature heavily in horror movies, maybe it's the fear of getting lost in them or maybe it's the amount of insects they contain . . . . whatever it is they give me the willies.  How do you feel about corn fields?

Linking up with Kim for this weeks' Texture Tuesday.