Clenching and clenching, like I'm a dammed reservoir tucked between two mountains, mountains which move in heaves, closing in.
I am embodied on one end of this walling walk; embodied to see the ominous slopes moving towards me; embodied with a choice to make: I can either run across the tensile rope of ground getting less tight or, I can retreat.
Visionary, I look at where I came from. There is a burnt forest with a sense of hollowness, an atmosphere of non-presence, emanating from the space between the charred finger-forms, the remnants of once lush bodies.
Visionary, I look forward. I squint to see. Across the dam there is a sudden drop, nothing behind but the ever-changing sky.
I hear a voice. The voice is in me and outside of me. It carries across the water, whose boundaries are shaped like an anatomical heart, and it reflects against those barriers, reaching the mountainous amphitheater. The voice booms, the slopes move in and the water presses through the cracks, wetting the grey with darker grey.
It has to dance, my embodiment, it has to flail its limbs, half-choreographed, half-violent, and it has to gut a great howl from its heart while I throw my head back and forth.
My vision blurs into a torrent of physicality. "Sprint!" it screams across my mind and shakes me esoterically.
I huddle for a while instead. I like the way the wind feels cold. I like the way it reeks of charcoal. Hovering my sacrum, I collapse into my knees. I warm myself this way and become as quiet as breath. I listen to the water and to the tenacity in it, from being pressured while embodied.
Hrooa! Chrish! Shreh! Vvrush! Scrrra! Chrish! Vvrush! Shreh! Scrrra! Hrooa!
"Oh whisper wind, muffle my ears," my voice embodied mutters. The wind answers. It picks up and dampens my senses.
As if the world suddenly inhaled, the mountains grow and the dam bulges. A distant thunder is felt in my feet. I let go my huddle and stand my body against the cracking cement.
Opening my senses again, like a wolf, I whiff the world. I open them to the sight of the fast moving clouds in the sky. I open them to the violent crashes of water being thrown against these walls, again and again.
"Sprint!" The voice embodied cries as another rumble crawls from the base of the dam where a slag of cement has fallen. The rumble crawls up and meets my body.
"Sprint? Or, just placidly kick the foundation?" I answer. My body droops, it shuffles, it whimpers.
Visionary, I look back again, back at the forest that long ago stopped its smolder. There is no trail, just tall yellow grasses (matted where I had passed) and boulders scattered among the arboreal corpses. There is no sign of another crossing, just the violent drop of a sheer canyon. I think I will slowly die back there.
Visionary, I look forward. I could take this body across this wall, across the body of heart-shaped water. It's the only path, the only way that would ensure I have a chance.
The spirit in this body pushes my hips to stumble, my legs to catch. I walk, forward.
A great moan threatens rupture, threatens the release of all this water. Pieces of concrete crumble from the wall to fall and to resonate with resounding clunks, reverberating through the canyon, feeding the great groan.
I lift my body and I sprint just as the wall begins to fall apart. The floor for me disappears suddenly, causing a stumble that throws my body against the remaining foundation of cement. I get up again. My sprint becomes a delicate dance.
The dam gives its final shudder. I kick against the pieces falling apart. Behind me, the water breaks its boundary and begins pouring over. The groan is replaced by a waterfall. My stride lengthens desperately. I try with all my intent, with all my might, to reach the other side.
I am embodied on one end of this walling walk; embodied to see the ominous slopes moving towards me; embodied with a choice to make: I can either run across the tensile rope of ground getting less tight or, I can retreat.
Visionary, I look at where I came from. There is a burnt forest with a sense of hollowness, an atmosphere of non-presence, emanating from the space between the charred finger-forms, the remnants of once lush bodies.
Visionary, I look forward. I squint to see. Across the dam there is a sudden drop, nothing behind but the ever-changing sky.
I hear a voice. The voice is in me and outside of me. It carries across the water, whose boundaries are shaped like an anatomical heart, and it reflects against those barriers, reaching the mountainous amphitheater. The voice booms, the slopes move in and the water presses through the cracks, wetting the grey with darker grey.
It has to dance, my embodiment, it has to flail its limbs, half-choreographed, half-violent, and it has to gut a great howl from its heart while I throw my head back and forth.
My vision blurs into a torrent of physicality. "Sprint!" it screams across my mind and shakes me esoterically.
I huddle for a while instead. I like the way the wind feels cold. I like the way it reeks of charcoal. Hovering my sacrum, I collapse into my knees. I warm myself this way and become as quiet as breath. I listen to the water and to the tenacity in it, from being pressured while embodied.
Hrooa! Chrish! Shreh! Vvrush! Scrrra! Chrish! Vvrush! Shreh! Scrrra! Hrooa!
"Oh whisper wind, muffle my ears," my voice embodied mutters. The wind answers. It picks up and dampens my senses.
As if the world suddenly inhaled, the mountains grow and the dam bulges. A distant thunder is felt in my feet. I let go my huddle and stand my body against the cracking cement.
Opening my senses again, like a wolf, I whiff the world. I open them to the sight of the fast moving clouds in the sky. I open them to the violent crashes of water being thrown against these walls, again and again.
"Sprint!" The voice embodied cries as another rumble crawls from the base of the dam where a slag of cement has fallen. The rumble crawls up and meets my body.
"Sprint? Or, just placidly kick the foundation?" I answer. My body droops, it shuffles, it whimpers.
Visionary, I look back again, back at the forest that long ago stopped its smolder. There is no trail, just tall yellow grasses (matted where I had passed) and boulders scattered among the arboreal corpses. There is no sign of another crossing, just the violent drop of a sheer canyon. I think I will slowly die back there.
Visionary, I look forward. I could take this body across this wall, across the body of heart-shaped water. It's the only path, the only way that would ensure I have a chance.
The spirit in this body pushes my hips to stumble, my legs to catch. I walk, forward.
A great moan threatens rupture, threatens the release of all this water. Pieces of concrete crumble from the wall to fall and to resonate with resounding clunks, reverberating through the canyon, feeding the great groan.
I lift my body and I sprint just as the wall begins to fall apart. The floor for me disappears suddenly, causing a stumble that throws my body against the remaining foundation of cement. I get up again. My sprint becomes a delicate dance.
The dam gives its final shudder. I kick against the pieces falling apart. Behind me, the water breaks its boundary and begins pouring over. The groan is replaced by a waterfall. My stride lengthens desperately. I try with all my intent, with all my might, to reach the other side.