a figure awaiting her own sculptress
to deliver her from stone retreat
knows a dream - sun marbled skin uncovered
ease of limbs free to be observed
simply present, still, in every moment
truth ringing through her pose
A. H / K.H-H (7th November 2019)
Instead of just gushing, as sometimes I do (for good and bad reasons), I picked a theme and tried to write seriously, an ear to metre and coherence.
I learned this year that Martin Luther described Grace as “the experience of being delivered from experience”. It’s one of the reasons I wrote this.
edit 9/11/19 – it just occurred to me that such grace is what I was seeing in Hitchcock’s presentation of Hannay in The 39 Steps in my reviews and comparison of it to Sabotage (where I say more of it in comparison to a lack of it)
oh to activate such an approach – it is, in a way, seeing all as foreign, not knowing as familiar/habitual and so, wrong — mindful, unattached but clear on what its true to (which some like to try to ration some away from as unfit).
It leads me to revise the first line of the poem from ‘a figure awaiting a sculptor’ to how it now stands.