Transformation Conversation



‘Why are you hanging on so long?’

‘I can’t bear the idea of falling. Falling is the end of me.’

‘You’ve been hanging there for weeks now all on your own.’

‘The others all left. One by one. I watched them give up. And fall.’

‘Aren’t you lonely?’

‘Sometimes... then again you learn to embrace the isolation and the emptiness. And the silence of the missing. The ones who’ve left.’

‘But you hung on.’ 

‘Waiting until I can do so no longer. Till the strength and stubborn-ness is gone and the mind begins to fade. Waiting. In the long moments of waiting just soaking up the sun, tracking it’s fading heat as it moves behind the cloudy skies, letting the rain and the morning mist soak my skin, drenching my soul in wet. Yet, somehow, I always thirst for more. The dry always returns too soon.’

‘The ground is wet. Most of the day now.’

‘Yes, but that’s different. A sinking, invading wet that punctures the skin, bruises and flushes my flesh to pulp.’

‘You join the earth.’

‘I suppose so. But when do I stop being this... when do I stop this life and begin something else? And will I know that moment? Once I’ve fallen, I’m unconnected, I’m still and helpless with the air around me so dank and heavy, and pearls of water on the grass seep toward me... will I know that moment? Will I feel that second of leaving this and landing in quite another way of being? Will it be a sudden sharp jilt or a slow oozing away from this to another place? These thoughts come often in these days of short light. They slide in with the changing colours around me.’

‘Thinking colours.’ 

‘Hmm... colours filled with thought and wondering. Will we remember the old when we become the new?’ 

Colin Stevens


Image by Pure Julia

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