Her body set in stone,
a medieval noblewoman sleeps for eternity-- awareness usurped by vacancy, all feeling gone-- a state far removed from mine for, without reason, I am awake. I deserve to be asleep (having walked eight miles) but stranded in limbo, the mind refuses, fretting when I should be dreaming. As a child, I would lie awake with pleasure, evading sleep with my thoughts as companions-- all in harmony. Was it that dodgy tuna sandwich (left in a hot car) or a surfeit of fruit (bounty of fall) that leaves me restless and queasy, spinning me round in my bed, trapped in a well-wrapped shroud? Nancy Christiansen
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AuthorI am a Northwest artist making collages from mulberry papers stamped by hand from original images that I have carved. Archives
April 2024
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