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She was oblivious to the passers-by, to the dappled sunlight, to the gathering afternoon. Hunched forward, she swayed imperceptibly to the rhythm of her internalised metronome. In generations that went before, the physical defrocking symbolised the spiritual defrocking that had been admitted. But, what hairshirt now lay before her? What rough beast slouched beside her? Would there was a scarlet letter to pin to her garment. D for Denier.
As much as she told herself no-one was looking, that no-one knew, she was unconvinced. She knew! It oozed out of every pore, it drowned innocence. All that was required was to stand, and put one foot after the other. That was it. One after the other. But which first? And how many steps? And then what? Left or right. Fast or slow. North. South. East. West.
She had thought her love would last forever. With faith gone, sensibility remained - alone.
3 comments:
What can I say? Each riff is so different. Mesmerising is how I'd describe this one.
I hope that when you're finished, you collate the 365 photos and riffs into a book.
I need to acknowledge the impact of two poets for this riff, Yeats and Auden.
Yeats for "The Second Coming".
Auden for "Stop all the Clocks".
And yes, there is a whiff of the autobiographical, again. However, the impact was of learning that a friend had once been a nun.
Yes I sensed the autobiographical but the nun bit helps me understand the "strength" of the denial.
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