“We are linked by blood, and blood is memory without language.” - Joyce Carol Oates
Magpie Tales has presented an image that stimulated me to delve into the land of distorting mirrors in order to seek an alternative view of the photograph provided. Another view, another universe, another idea? Perhaps some commonality will be apparent in the creative process of 100 or so participants of this week’s challenge. I always look at the image provided cold and go off on my tangents without looking at any of the other contributors’ offerings. It is quite an interesting experience to then read the creative pieces of others that are based on the same visual stimulus and see what differs and what is similar.
With Eyes Closed
With eyes closed firmly, I sit and ponder,
Dreaming of you, my distant forebear;
My thoughts unhindered run and wander
Through all the common history we share.
Your name only and your date of death
Is all I know, but that little’s ample
To give your picture life and breath,
To draw new strength from your example.
You had a dream, you lived your life
Battling with dragons, just to survive;
Your children to protect, your wife –
And proof of your success, is that I thrive.
A yellowed photograph, your tattered bible,
The names of my ancestors written down,
A wooden statuette – memories ancient, tribal,
Enough to make me dive into the past and drown.
I have you in my thoughts, and give respect,
And through the ages we touch souls, connect;
Your blood flows in my veins and I bear fruits
Proud of your struggle, my heritage, my roots.