Through The Tears
I look and I look. I see and I see. Sometimes I see beyond, what is not yet there, what could be, what might be if you imagine hard enough. When you stop in nature and are quiet, the sounds around you emerge – the buzz of an insect, the rustling of an animal, the song of a bird, the sound of the wind through the grasses and trees, maybe even the pounding of a waterfall. That is when I hear and I hear, but only in stillness. If I grant myself even more time I begin to feel – the touch of the wind across my skin or the warmth of the sun.
I remember a touch as it turns into a memory as a feeling. Like many of my photographs, it is stored on a hard drive where no one else ever gets to see it. It takes up space and eventually slows things down. But it is so easy to store away, so I do until the day when nothing else will work because there is just no more space. Then it comes, pounding down like a waterfall, falling over a cliff and crashing into the rocks below. It is both magnificent and violent. I hope for you, you are not on the rocks below, with no warning.
I think I yearn for a tear at a time, instead of a gush, making space more often and violence less. So I try and I look and I hear and then I feel and my eyes fill with watery tears and my vision is blurred but there is the waterfall. So much for the trickle, this time.
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