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May 2020
The realisation that this violent red came up in me, that it had put itself out there, against my peaceful blue

hidden underneath my skin I thought, but once this/the disconnection came up, this unsafety, the red escaped 

and in an instant, alien became less distant, fluid in my daily countenance. How I've always assumed you

were the rock and I the water, how it turned out to be still and all. Me fully capable of standing my stones 

in the fluidity of waves, in this life of ebbs & flows. And even while I peak over the cliff edge, with the wind 

in my face, drawn into depth & distance - I know the cracks of then and the hills of now will become a passage,

a progress through the fragments I breathe, for the joy I feel. You went along to trust my inner world, while

you wouldn't anyway. So I decided to wend my place that provides me to dream up and survive nonetheless. 

Once your heart has jumped out of your body, the rivers & tides will smooth over. Structured daydreaming will bring

out the bright, fresh morning I need to scare off the ghosts of my lost night, a subverted realism to coast through a

clear consciousness over some guilt and uneasy vulnerableness. What's done, is done. True. Imagine that.
Kate Copeland
Written by
Kate Copeland  50/F/London
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