Saturday, July 30, 2016

Mikaela Castledine # 204 The light is not only at the end

For Sarah and Anna and everyone else...

It’s only when I physically type the words
losing your mother is a rite of passage
something dangerous and important that you pass through
that I truly understand it is an actual passage
an aisle a corridor a walkway a subway an underpass
that there are people at the end calling and reaching out to help guide you through
that there are people at the beginning fingers crossed for you thinking of their own journey to come
that there are people with you holding your hand
that the floor can be a conveyor to take you onward even when your feet have come to a halt
and that the light is not only at the end

For me
right now
the passage from mothered to motherless is the luminous tunnel of an underwaterworld aquarium
blue and green with curiosity 
with bubbles and bouyancy with tamed dangers,
a beautiful place of salt water pooling of prisms
of sighs of handfeeding of treading water
and always the strange grinding squeak of the moving plates beneath your feet 
that take you inexorably forward whether you are standing
are fallen
or are running hard back to the past


  1. This moved me, Mikaela. It's strong and delicate and beautiful. Juliex

  2. I understand the buoyancy. There's a strange lightness of being.


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