The cluttered woman

The debris clutter her body. It once served as protection. She moves, stiffened by weeds and twigs, and branches too, her joints are locked and cannot bend. Her walk is restricted. This safety of hers now increasingly offers constraint. Movements are costly. Standing still. A tear runs down her face once soft and open. Where trust and ease once rested, fear now deeply carves out marks of hardness, and grudge is hidden in weary skin. 

A strong wind stirs. Something new. This is unfamiliar. 

Again the debris attaches to her already armored stature. An armor of protection slowly transforms into a shell, hiding her, keeping her both from the pain and the joy. 

She is barricaded. Kept from all outward impressions. 


19. mars 2016 © Anne Olaug Soleng