Snippets of Self

A Mermaid once fled the ocean because she was unhappy with her immortal life as an indulged princess. You gave up everything for one man who did not even know you existed. That was the case until you decided to become known.

Until.

Lost.

Found.

Lost Again.

To someone.

Far. Far. Away.

A girl is stationery with her head tilted towards the moonlight as she watches the Dolphins and Pelicans slow down for the night. The wind caresses her ears, a whistle and then a deep blow; it’s snoring. Music to her ears. The sand beneath her feet is now cold. She clenches her toes as the warm sea ravishes them every five seconds.

One, two, three, four, ravish me.

One, two three, four, ravish me.

One, two three, four ravish me.

Then releases.

She is alone and detached from the neighbouring society which sits just around the corner from where she stands. Multi million-dollar houses with whitewashed walls and panoramic roofs inhabited by champagne sippers and designer shoppers. Constant sarcastic comments and belching waves of laughter which dominate the streets are worlds away from the soft beach landscape. There is nothing more exhilarating than the feeling of complete loneliness accompanied by nature, friends who will always be there. A beach that stretches for thirteen miles. Proper, prim and pristine. That evening she decides to stroll along the coastline.

If any beach felt as though it was giving you a hug, then this sure would. A vacant space inhabited by mystical anomalies. The night highlights the most enchanting events which are a delight to watch. Usually solitary creatures for most of the year, Sea Turtles nest in their thousands. Females crawl out of the ocean, dig deep holes in the sand and lay their eggs. In the middle of the night, the surface of the sand starts to shake and thereby emerge baby turtles. Guided by the moonlights reflection they make their way into the sea to begin their life. The long journey.

Is someone coming to look for her? They could try but it would be difficult to capture her. The angle of the moon acts as a spotlight and highlights the shape of her. The mood of her. The ocean is now the mirror. No one on the land nearby can see her full reflection. Above sea level or down deep below.

Is a glass half full or half empty?

What is the mother of the sea?

Can anything compete with the already known ‘mother of the ocean’ ?

One, two, three, four, listen to me.

One, two, three, four, listen to me.

One, two, three, four, listen to me.

Hanging over the icy water a large ship has remained stationary for the last six months. Icebergs cast shadows and it’s so cold that the sky remains a soft pink. A muted kiss. A chilled uncomfortable hug that you just cannot escape. Everything moves and lives slower because it has to. There is no choice. The waves have now become stiff and are weighted down by a frozen wind. It pinches the skin. Each evening she walks out to comb her golden hair. The bright light has been switched on. An iridescent beacon of hope.

A step to heaven.

Then in again.

A step to heaven.

Then to bed.

A girl who tempts the crew that they will be saved from the bitterness.

One, two, three, four, distract me.

One, two, three, four, distract me.

One, two, three, four, distract me.

Through the bristles and winding paths next to the lake sits a small log cabin. Aged oak.

Inside the inhabitant remains out of sync with the woodlands. Bird songs call all around with a sweet tuned blow. Someone is whispering to the woods and telling them to hush and hide back, for its harbouring a little darling. One who is scared and lonely and completely alone.

Night is her day and day is her night. Everything is upside down.

Come and take a chance. A moment is all that is needed.

The ripple of a penny drop in water.

A bird diving for fish.

This time it’s this lake.

Right here. Right now.

One, two, three, four, shelter me.

One, two, three, four, shelter me.

One, two, three, four, shelter me.

The mood of a moment can be captured in a single second.

That’s how you see.

Use a camera.

An old memory.

All the same.

The mind. Plays tricks on us.

But with different stories to tell each time.

Look at an old photograph with a smudge. Water damage, or that coffee you spilled early on Monday morning. It obscures and washes some of the colour. Caressing the moment instead of stamping it. What does it leave in its place? The most beautiful alternative. Imperfections.

One, two, three, four, remember me.

One, two, three, four, remember me.

One, two, three, four, remember me.

Soaring through endless skies, a plane begins to make its decent. The belly drops and a slight fright. A rocking chair with wings. It has been captured by the clouds. A grasp. Then a dive. Sinking faster and faster. The whirlwind began its turn. You take a lookout position to assist and deliver.

Look!

Out of the window.

To the left.

To the right.

There she is.

From a distance you can stare at her.

Tilt your head

Morals,

and your surroundings

rebounding

into the distance.

One, two, three, four, follow me.

One, two, three, four, follow me.

One, two, three, four, follow me.

Standing in a bathroom and the temperature roars, vibrating the space. The steam begins to stroke your back and the stiff hairs on your legs. It begins to tempt you with those pouring secrets. Murmuring sweet nothings into your ear to get your attention.

The bursting of a pipe.

The leak of the tap.

The squelch from the soggy bath mat.

Slowly the skin starts to wrinkle to improve grip and stability.

Shimmering to produce the decadent light. So bright. Like stars. Saturated.

Now breaking down.

Feel the warm breadth on the back of your neck like some long-forgotten memory.

You have the desire to move towards the heat even though the outcome is painful. The scorch before was painful and death was looming.

Do not be pulled in the same direction.

It’s wet.

So wash yourself in the blue lagoon.

To be lost and confused.

Dripping and dazed.

You enter.

Now sodden.

One, two, three, four, make love to me.

One, two, three, four, make love to me.

One, two, three, four, make love to me.

A wasted sailor washed up on some far forgotten beach has mistaken a ‘message in a bottle’ for rum.

Silly bugger.

He spoke to the bottle for short while.

Could not sympathise.

Stand alone and lie down or come with me.

To the sea and the great beyond.

She will sit here to disappear.

Listen to the cries.

A moment and then another one.

Rolls off the tongue. Like love. Alike.

We can see clearly now.

One, two, three, four, release me.

One, two, three, four, release me.

One, two, three, four, release me.

She is a Mermaid, advance with care, like crossing a road you would look both ways; left, right, up and down. A Mermaid has no left or right. Instead, she has a face and a fin. A face that can permutate.

Accept yourself.

You were designed.

To disappear.