I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land!
But I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the
sky: Betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust
a bodkin's point.
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Published by ginny
on Thursday, June 2, 2011 at 4:21 PM.
Sometimes these days I have the sensation that my ability to write is slowly coming back, like brush after a wildfire. Little shoots of green things – mostly weeds – begin, tentatively, to curl in and out amongst the sharp brown and grey edges the fire left behind, disturbing the dusty earth. All the dead things are low and weathered, nests of twigs protecting what life is left after the searing cleanse.
Sometimes these days, very occasionally, I have the urge to write things down, to think complicated thoughts and to work through the tangled underbrush of an idea. I hadn’t even realized how thoroughly those things had gone until they started to come back. The beginning of restoration shows me, in the half-light of dawn, the extent of the devastation that burned through the night before.
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