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JOURNEY OF THE HAND-TOUCHED
by Brigitia Wood
"'Journey of the Hand-Touched' is one of my more unusual pieces... the imagery is what gives it a paranormal edge. The overall theme is transformation, especially the kind that develops from going into your own subconscious and emerging with a new sense of self." -- Birgitia Wood
A hand, long fingernails pointed upwards, pink crusts flaking on those fingernails, and I cannot help but touch them with my bare, calloused fingertips. With a brief wink, silently flashing, I am gone and into a world torn apart by tempests, hurricanes fleeing, monsoons ravaging, and I am a wind like them, spilling and burning, drinking and seething, leaving poetıs teeth in an apple core, leaving scratches on a barn roof, trailing blood across a nation of short, heavy creatures with bowed heads and roots for legs.
I dip into a sea of tranquil green. Here, seaweed wrapped, my limbs are flung out and my tongue is swollen. I am black-eyed, short-breathed goddess staring at the sun. I am barnacle-encrusted, coral-fingered creature home. I am here, pulled down in solid, sizzling emptiness, my hands spread to the sides where they can feel
A world caged in but boundless within its bars. Floating upwards, breathing down, bubbles of tiny torn claws shaking firm ectoplasm of delight. The Ground Shell Mother beats a blasting tune on a cone that once held life--bleats further still into the ears of a murmuring dragon, a carp-scaled, camel-faced, wingless dragon, eel-swaying and hawk-preying talons on the leopard-padded feet. Into the ears and mind of a dragon, with breath of bubble steam, where fire can enter water and see the life cringe back into empty, pearl-white shells. To see horns beating on the door and a sign: "Cave of Answers--Out to Lunch". To break and burst against a rusted lock and know the pain of blundering futility. Strip down, cast away this mask--it lies in a whorl of yellow and green on sand stained blue with light. It lies in a field of crushed pearls and broken diamonds - and my once sensitive fingers, now barnacle laden, reach up to touch the surface and watch it break.
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