Creative Writing Wisdom

By Joyce Matthews

She scanned the middle distance. Her compass turning her towards the islands. A long view dotted with curves and lines. While others reached for the far horizon, or climbed familiar ropes and ladders, she looked for shapes she might interpret.

Her eyes came to rest on the wreck. A ship out of water, grounded, frozen in time. Its makers’ skill still visible, crafted with a delicate foreign hand while the mind roamed.

She’d seen its shape before, touched the wires, smoothed her fingers along the hull, felt the emotion. The elegance and beauty of the ship, even in distress, captured her attention and drew her in.

She took her time, to pull apart what she thought she could see. While others used a spyglass, or shaded their eyes, she turned her face to the light. A memory ran through her mind, too fast to be held. Her legs ached to move, to run after it, to speed up, to catch it. Her mind told her to be still and let it back in time.

She noticed her pattern. Reflection in objects, not for all to see, only those who took the time to notice, attend.

Wedged between history and fiction, life and eternal puzzles fascinated her mind. But the ship in its repose was still life. She only had to look from another place to see a different interpretation.

‘And so, with beautiful eyes I choose to behold,

The vista, the ugly, the loud, the old and too bold.

What I’d been told, once believed, had even held true

Takes on a fresh meaning, one that feels clean, pure and new

I am no longer held fast by what I though was my mind

I am no longer tethered, blinkered, feeling my way half blind

I can pull up the anchor, any place any time

To choose to set sail, leave routines of past thought, habits, repeats far behind

Of scratching paper, applying needs of some who had taught me rules with no feat,

And kept my boundaries near, contained, fenced in and too neat

‘Slave’ is not my trademark, at journeys end a choice

No longer beside a stranger, the use of myself to carve a voice

The tide takes me out, on the waves I feel light

Anchoress rise up, and like a swallow take flight’