At class last night

This is a piece of writing I produced at my spiritualism class last night. I feel it is linked to my friend’s loss and my feelings. Not sure what it means or if I should even try and work out what it means. All I know is it is about colours and pictures that came into my mind. Then I became part of the image and then it was just words in statements.

Orange, of fruit, ripe around us, juicy to yellow and black bees, buzzing from flower to flower, to create life then moving closer to home to be together, as one unit, working into the blue – horizon away from the security, away from the family, alone but excited, excitable. And cold but not bone cold, just skin deep, cool goose bumps on skin allowing the feeling.

Purple petals, large, soft, silky, untouchable petals that melt against finger tips into dust, leaving subtle stain that last forever.

Lightening rips across landscapes, alive, buzzing, electric – momentarily bright, illuminated then dark again.

The wind blows around my hair, face flapping as it stabs ends into my face – I brush it away and turn to make it stream behind, behind to red, fire flame red. A cold warmth sinking down, removing all the trees and flowers from image into red.

The green is gone
Long live the green
And bright red collars
Around my neck that
Simpers. Quietly moaning
Of life and death.
Quietly hoping of faith
And hope. Quietly.

Escape to freedom.