not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

tent


inside the tent my son has gathered closely to me and holds my fingers, creating between us another tent, into which he breathes.  his breath warms us both. outside the tent phantom shadows form and stretch to find us.  it does not matter what creates the shadows.  it does not matter how many tents we form or how closely we gather to one another.  we live as exposed as the cold rock that we jumped off earlier today into the dark abysmal water which we did not dare begin to measure.  and even still, it is not these unforgiving truths which hurt me. what hurts me are his softly curled chubby fingers through mine and his loose and pouting sleeping bottom lip.

12 comments:

  1. sublime - a mother and son moment

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  2. ,,,still, I decipher...how are you Ms. Tiny Leaf?

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  3. Mysterious, i wanna dive into the black to have a better view. I can see it and i can not....

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  4. You've captured a timeless moment, Erin. Oh, how fast they grow up and away from us. I know that's the way it should be, but that does not lessen the pain. A beautiful, heartfelt, moving write and photo, Erin. xoxo

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  5. love. nothing hurts us more than love.

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  6. thanks for the additional insights, i get it

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  7. This is extraordinarily beautiful, it makes me teary and speechless at the same time. To transcend by acceptance the absolute arbitrariness of everything the mind encounters and creates by being present with the illusion of it - only to see another person who has to make the same journey to acceptance that you did. WOW!

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  8. Yes there is nothing more rewarding and the most painful thing in this world then to be a parent.

    My son turns 20 this weekend and raising him has not been easy.

    I would say more but then it will give sway a post I'm working on.

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  9. I have not had children myself, and yet the tent, the rock, the tent, the world out there--oh I feel it and it is a beautiful pain. Thank you.

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  10. Erin it's interesting when I try to view many of your pix on my mobile, they are nearly pitch black. You might check the mobile settings on blogger...?

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  11. love is this -- the agreement to lose everything to the unidentifiable shadows and the abyss of water. love is the knowledge that all will be stripped as bare and cold as the rock -- and to say, even so.... i know you know this.

    and yet (we say, unable not to say) ... and yet, i know how he came to you, how he held your fingers and slept -- even so, the rock warmed in the sun for one afternoon, the shadows on the tent wall were not bears, not yet ...

    the tenderness of this picture is almost unbearable, because, i think, of the knowledge and embrace of knowledge behind it ...

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  12. Ah, once again your words--and your pictures now--bring me to tears. Thank you my amazing, wonderful talented friend. I needed your words this morning.

    Soon those chubby fingers, and those sweet sleeping lips will firm into emerging adulthood. And then everything changes.

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))