THE WALK – visual poetry

So yesterday I hit my head on the trunk of the car. You would probably not have noticed much but I have a little dint to prove it. And I have a cold, which for me and my inner ears usually means dizziness.

I’m making excuses for myself, did you notice?

And for this one I will make ALL the excuses, because this is the first time I do ANYTHING of the sort. Well there is a poem over on biit.space where I reside poetry to music but this is different.

I got the idea a while ago to do something more visual. Something more than my photography. I’ve never dabbled with video before. Ever. I hardly do home videos and when I do they’re not good. So when I got this idea I told myself that it was idiotic. That I didn’t know the first thing about the matter and that it would just be amateurish and poor.

When I first started editing my photographs I was inspired by something I read in a book. It said that you should embrace the faults in your photographs, make the faults and the flaws a characteristic, make them say something. I still try to embrace that.

Well guess what? It’s amateur hour and I’m sure if flaws talk this says a hell of a lot. Because after I hit my head yesterday (completely blaming this on that) I went for a walk. And I recorded the entire walk on my iPhone (with Filmic Pro). It was a video of about 15 minutes. When I got home I ran the thing through an app called 8mm and then I  sat myself in front of iMovies and cut it down into pieces.

That took a while.

Then I spent the rest of the day trying to come up with words. I even wrote during my daughters dance practice as I was unable to go out running like I usually do. This morning I had a text that I thought would fit alright. I made an effort to time it and I recorded my voice on the video.

The magic of technology. The things you can accomplish in 24 hours? Well, it is what it is…

So my voice is shaky and so is the camera (I promise if I ever do this again I’ll use the anti-shake function!). My accent is poor and you probably can’t hear half of what I’m saying and I apologise for the breathing (I have a cold).

But this is something. I don’t know what. A visual poem?

I hope you’ll forgive me.
I’ll write the text out first so you can just read that if you like, or follow the text with the video. Or you can (and maybe have already) just turn around and run! It’s all up to you…

THE WALK

Hush.
Stillness…

This quietness doesn’t belong to me
this is not my kind of silence,
it seems to belong to you
strange as it seems.

Steps of destiny
I can hear you in the forest
the ghost of you lurking
though you are out in the world somewhere
living your life.

Sometimes I think you’re my guardian angel
sometimes I’m convinced you’re death
my death
impersonated
not the grim reaper
but a private one.

I look back
invisible steps on the pavement
but there is no turning back
time won’t allow it
my shouting inner voice won’t allow it.

Are you my darkest desire?
A hidden treasure?
Or both?

A nightmare…

I can’t tell which
but this place is ominous,
these are your trees,
this is your space,
your ghost that lingers,
haunts me though I don’t know why
Don’t know how.

Slowly, quietly…

A sound of the forest,
your words echoing
“Will you be my valentine?”
and I can imagine our ghosts dancing
invisible, without reflection, without regret,
dead.

I hear a sound
it comes from in between the trees
whispers, invitation, initiation…

but it’s not my time yet…

I’m here to pursue the unfathomable
the incomprehensible
I am here to seek,
to search for whatever it is
that will light up the darkness
that has its ebbs and flows
in my soul…

the forest is inapproachable
closed,
unreal,
its secrets hidden.

I am here to seek the beauty
promised to me by the darkness.
I see your ghost
beautiful as you are.

They say that only the damned can see the  bench,
whoever sees it will end up sitting there
watching the rooftops
forever in silence,
hollow,
but they forget the kindness the world offers
even in the darkness

though I fear I won’t ever see the bench.
Maybe I was offered a different fate?

Hush. Move on.

Even the birds are absent now
not shooting their way out of the bushes
or sitting in the treetops

but I feel your presence among the trees
your kindness envelopes me
echoing at me like it was mine to begin with
and I wonder if my ghost haunts you too
whoever you really are?

Maybe our two ghosts will be united
on that bench
forever friends
watching the rooftops.

I rush into the street,
heading home,
today is not the right day
it’s all too calm,
too quiet.
Rushed.

Hushed.

Someday I will see you clearly
maybe sitting on that bench
smiling at me
offering me a place beside you
two ghosts without a reflection.

Hush.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. I love the 8mm-treatment…this is such a lovely, immediate, hushed secret vision we have the pleasure of being voyeurs into…

    You sound so young! (Well, you are young, but the lovely voice of a young woman…exploring…questioning…
    reasoning…so wonderful,…)

    This sort of production/media seems very well-suited to you…images, words, voice, movement & life…all meld into one magical work…you have a great sense of feel/tone in all you do, I just love this…🙏🏻💛🙏🏻

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Eygló Daða says:

      Thank you so much! I was feeling VERY insecure about this one so it feels great actually to hear!

      Like

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