Oh break my heart.
Driving past the autumn river valley this morning and a sliver of happiness shot straight under my skin, bleeding it with mournful joy. I'm trying to find a way to live in that middle, to hold the beautiful and the dead together, without tingeing one with the other. It is inherently painful. It would be easier to hate and dismiss, to tilt memories as in a mirror, thinning them out, slanting their angle so that they reflect less truth, less loss. Or I could remain forever wounded. Forever the grieving widow, looking through black and white photos, bringing out my paints to colour in the fading spaces that never really were.
Moments, I flit like a ghost from space to space, tilting mirrors, colouring photos.
Moments, I stand suspended, holding a dead body in one arm and beautiful memories in the other. I'm trying to live there, arms full of past and present, in the place where pain colours happiness brighter.
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