Army of ink # 42

 

I once wished upon stars  .  books with crosses  .  as the white man stole birthdays  .  red man pretended  .  black collars wrapped around truth  .  now I wear the hat that makes me taller than the glaring  .  stays on as I rattle my little box  .  make sticks come alive  .  hard things run  .  soft things dance with my breath  .  spin circles that wrap all the way around me   .  and everything disappears .

Like any good Danish pastry this ink has layer upon layer upon layer of meaning - some better left undisturbed.   Essentially I think she’s one very disillusioned tough cookie who’s had some bad experiences and carries a load of shame.  She sits a gasp in disbelief of the evil deeds of others – and the fall out from the telling of truth.  But that’s not stopping her.  In fact, it’s fuelling her to take the cake by the candle (so to speak) with teeth gritting determination to grow beyond those experiences.  To do this she’s tapping into her own personal power (hence the matches) rather than relying (too much) on others to make things happen – or make it all go away.  Knowing it’s going to take some time, she’s moving carefully to ensure she doesn’t burn herself out.    Oh dear!  Very cliche but it matches my plan to slow down a bit this year – parden the pun.   Pass the candle on ….