III. II. I.
by lucy holmes
Let her water rise up to meet me
That godly tide
- dividing-
the land at the shore
Rising, polarising,
Calling your tired body
back for more.
-
And Autumn always comes
at the strangest of times
Where the trees; once glowing ‒
transform into thick distorted lines
Where the leaves; once growing ‒
Exploded like mines
So, let that empty tide rise -
Reach and expand
And double in size
To meet my body once more.
-
And you ‒
I saw you running
Down the steps of the stairs
Down concrete, through sea salt
And misty dark airs
And you ‒
You ran to meet her ‒ as she rose
to you
Her body ‒ melting
Dripping from the midnight sky
One with the midnight blue
Slowly,
As blue moves to black
Those murky dark waters
Possessed what you lack
That feeling ‒ the metal ‒ my blood running dry
Then three became two
And two became I
I; Watching the river
Rise up in my chest
I; As quickly as a bloodhound can run
Watched three become two
And two become none
To none ‒
Down those hard concrete stairs
One with the sea salt
And misty dark air
To none ‒
For my mind is not there
My body forsaken,
my ribcage laid bare
To none ‒
The change we have made
It canʼt be forgotten
It canʼt be undone
Lucy Holmes is a multi-disciplinary writer, artist, performer and theatre-maker. Lucy is a final year Drama and Theatre studies student in Trinity College Dublin and is a named scholar of Drama and Theatre. Originally from the midlands of Ireland, her writing takes a lot of inspiration from the landscapes and people that surrounded her growing up. She has been writing from a young age both poetically and theatrically, with the two modes of writing often melting into one.
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