Go.
January 30, 2009
I am a fish.
A great, big yellow pike. Eyeshine mirroring the glint of light falling in slow layers below the surface of ink dark water, I am gills and fins and olive gold scales.
I am slicked by a current carrying me along shallow shore lines, just out of reach of your lure. Unaware of my own cold heart, I am an ectothermic experiment in love and loss.
I am a fish.
A ripe pink salmon, dorsal fin flapping the wisdom of rivers and oceans, intuitively defying death by defying life: a refusal to spawn to die.
I am a last meal on the river Boyne, escaping punishment by frustratingly swimming upstream, but suffering the consequence of a tapered tail by the hand of Thor.
I am a fish.
One half a pair of shining gold fish, I lap the shores of happiness caught inside the reflection of a glass bowl, an endless cyclic swim taunting freedom just the other side.
I am a fish.
The intuitive minnow slipping in and out of your dream current.
I am a fish.
Ichthus. Matsya. Ea. Aphrodite escaping Typhon. The spawn of Mangala. Divine Mother granting you fertility. Fionn mac Cumhaill, giver of knowledge.
I am a fish.
xoxo
M.L. H’art
Amazing visuals….yet again your words impact with such force. you are a fish to be reckoned with.
I wonder if the short memory of the fish is a curse or a gift. Forgetfulness resets the past, every minute is a new lease on life, a new path taken. But if that path is no good, what stops fish from exploring the same glass wall over and over again.