Skip to main content

naked abandon

revealing, skeleton-like edison bulb

I wrote this piece a year and a half ago.  The prompt was "caught up in the image."


Standing naked under a single bare light bulb, she was exposed.  There were no props, no masks to offer a shred of private dignity or security.  Her soul was stripped of facades.  What happened to the phony veneer of the window dressing she wore?  A pile of fabric lay crumpled at her unprotected feet.

Unfolding vulnerability was not part of her being.  Was it really anyone’s?  Perfection was the desired portrait, unblemished and flawless; performing like a horse or pony in the circus, always jumping through hoops and carrying out tricks at another’s whim.

Caught up in the image painted over her life, she struggled to fracture the confines of other’s applause. 

Under the divulging fluorescent, statuesque stillness enveloped her in quietness.  The deafening silence screamed in her mind of fear and inability, she stood suspended.  She was numb, frozen in time and place, unable to move.  Maybe the quicksand of approval would swallow her ever so slowly, trapping the fragments and debris.

Nakedness reveals flaws, disfigurements and weakness.  Impeccable perfection glosses over the richly etched character and patina.  Letting go in full abandon, she raises her arms high, straining for the single bare light bulb and its exposing clarity.


How often am I this girl?

Missy


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

lent, not lint

says it all - the grotto It sticks to your clothes and shows up splendidly on black, it gets caught on the screen in the dryer and socks elaborately decorate your toes with the stuff.  Yep, lint:  the fuzzy, ravelings of fabric that cling to everything; like Velcro, only different. Lint actually has a purpose.  By scraping it from linen it can be made into a soft, fleecy fabric.  Cotton staple – lint fibers – are spun into yarn.  While all of this is riveting, especially while staring at the lint in your belly-button, there’s more to Lent than its sound doppelganger. lint: fluffy, minute shreds of yarn lent: a season of preparation These two tiny words sound similar in our vernacular, but have massively different implications in our lives.  We clean-up lint and toss it in the trash.  Lent, however is a prepping time for us to realize we’re not great at cleaning up our own stuff. Lent was originally a season between winter and summer, now called spring.  The s

road tripping: french glen and steens mountain

we took a stinkin' lot of dirt roads, but i wouldn't have it any other way The drive wasn’t long by west coast standards, a mere few of hours; which meant there was plenty of leisure (interpreted coffee time) before leaving on another road trip escapade.  I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to pack a bag, gas up the car and set out to see what can be seen. An interesting thing I’ve discovered on these exploits, is that having lived in Oregon for the majority of my life, I’ve missed “seeing” a lot of things. You know, I think we all get into the habit of going to the same places, which is a good thing, but we forget about the “other” places that are right in our own backyards. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, when my darling man and I went to Tumalo Falls. I’ve been to Skyliner Snow Park, but never gone the few more dirt road miles to see the falls. Holy cow! Is that lame, or what? a sweet little place, no frills, but plenty of yesteryear

pebbles

strewn pebbles Walking on the path I noticed the pebbles. I stopped and picked one up, holding it in my hand to feel it’s texture. Tiny and smooth, it felt warm from the sun. Continuing on my walk, the way was scattered with pebbles of different shapes and sizes; some flat and polished, others round and craggy with sharp edges that could cut the skin. I considered the meaning, if any. Some had been sanded to perfection by time and wear. Others recently broken and chipped were harsh, ugly to feel and look at. No matter, all were pebbles; that was fact. Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance