Post # 11 Ventotene

I

My stomach churns and my brain sways with wine and waves. The sun burns and I feel ridiculously happy. My feet skip gently on the volcanic rock, my body high and moon heavy. My rock, I am a rock! My empty space, my nature – a habitat where the buzzing stops, replaced by cicadas and a clash of deep blue. The mighty cshhh… The world is shut out by the echoing silence. The people are cactuses, blended in mud and rocks. The only colour is blue. Everything is blue, I think I’m turning blue. Maybe if I sit still enough, I’ll fade into this rock. If I sit here long enough the tide will rise and the blue will eat me whole. Maybe it will kill the green and I will be one with this cave, my true colour at last.

II

I can’t put my finger on the people over here. They seem lighthearted, merry and intellectual. Yet I still feel clumsy, heavy and uncoordinated. I remain awkward and I can’t express what I’d like to express. I feel as if their camp of love is too structured in its being unstructured and I can’t find my place in it. I feel embarrassed and awkward at the intimacy, of losing my fears and inhibitions in their midst. As if I have a role to fulfil and I’d be judged a prude if I didn’t live up to expectations. I suppose I just don’t like being a sideline. I do not sparkle here, I’m just a fish in the sea. Here I don’t even serve entertainment purpose. I’d rather be alone maybe, where I can gawk at myself and my thoughts.

III

I thought this year would be a blank slate. I’m not new here, I’m old and consumed. The comments and judgements remain those of my childhood and everyone here is missing a piece. A rather large, constructive piece. Isn’t it ironic that it is easier to communicate with strangers that with loved ones? We see each other through the lens of our history and it is often too hazy to be clear.

IV

Up the gods rock,
To the top of the island
I climb – a lucky guest.
I’m crowned in laurel

And bigger than the sea.
Round and round
The sparkly heavens shove me;
The pitch black

Catches me.
I’m a microbe, a quasar;
A pillow, a knife!
I’m ready, I’m hazy

Your nightmare, your prize.
Have I yet the courage
For the dive –
The big dip.

I’m still green and weary
I shall dry up or slip,
Into death
and oblivion and dread.

Newton is dead.
Why are we still clinging to a flat Earth?
Observe the atoms,
Ride the waves.

It is me I see
In every crook and corner.
It is me who sees,
It is me I see.

I am your Frankenstein
You mighty organiser
You puzzle maker
You forgot to flip the light switch.

You stuck me, colourful
to a monochromatic Earth.
Unrelentingly chasing
Hidden meanings,

Fireflies.

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