Time Out of Mind

A quilted retrospective.

After the sand of the hour had spilled from the mantle, I kept watch beside myself in low tide mirrors, the sea at my ankles returning us to the corners of childhood libraries. With bare feet resting in tulip beds, I borrowed confidence from open pages and read to them. Their still-unopened faces swayed in blind brilliance and we held there, unknowing.  

Seasons passed and we were separated until I was alone at the edge of a wasteland. I had a threaded needle and no pattern in sight. I spent a long time dreaming. Once in the warehouse, time’s gears were in pieces on the floor. I held a face in my hands, and it whispered reminders. I would need to fold the fields behind me first, then set to stitching. 

I wore fire against the rain and cut a new dress from the remnants of the last harvest. Gorged on ripe losses, my scalp sang anemones. Hold, I whispered to the new blooms, that they might stay until the hour returned. 

***

Inspired by images in this article about the work of Ukranian artist Oleg Oprisco, known for creating surreal settings from everyday elements.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

8 thoughts on “Time Out of Mind”

  1. Jef Blocker – Atlanta, GA – I'm a content designer/strategist, life and wellness coach, and writer.
    Jef says:

    The writing in this piece is one of your best examples. Well done!

  2. Hi
    I visited your site. I can read your biography & blog so wonderful written you. Very nice share your experience. So interesting words use. I like. Iam so happy.🙏✍️

  3. What use of language here in rhythm, imagery and sound. So visceral! What a dreamlike mash-up, accompaniment to that piece of art. Cool we can hold our own pieces up in honor and reverence, innit?

      1. Seems to well reflect the soup in our brains right?!

  4. Ellie Carpenter – United Kingdom – Writing my memoirs, musings, a little fiction and a lot of poetry as a way of exploring and making the most of my life ... ... Having had a break from writing my blog for more than three years, I decided to return to write my memoirs, some day-to-day observations, views and feelings. My passion is non-fiction poetry. I have a disability and use an electric powerchair called Alfie and let nothing get in the way of living life to the full. I believe that you can never do a kindness too soon and should give credit where credit is due. A smile or a kind word could make the difference between a good or bad day for a person - we never know what's going on for another soul. Those little things, perhaps, practised daily like a mantra, could mean so much to someone else. Thank you for visiting my blog and reading a little more about me. Please, make yourself at home here. You are very welcome. Ellie x 😊
    Ellie Thompson says:

    This is so lovely and very relatable too. Your words really do fit well with the surreal images. I could picture your words in the artist’s beautiful and unusual settings. I particularly like the image of the books on shelves with the woman’s feet in the tulips as your writing described. Also, the image with the electricity pylons and the needle and thread. I’ve read this three times in awe – thoroughly enjoyed this post. Thanks for sharing more of your amazing words, Stacey. X

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