bonefire

walking through the dark garden became one of her obsessions lately.
she liked not to switch on the light
having to feel, rather than see the path she had to take
(like one dark night with a heavy bag on her shoulders and a hand
and another path somewhere far through a garden
leading to the house with red windows)
she liked to experiment in the dark
slow or fast
her heart beating with an everchanging rythm in her chest

she often stopped underneath a pinetree
and laying her back against its trunk she cried or wailed
falling through the darkness

the world around was silent and comforting
the mucis in her ears helped to throw up the
most terrible of her fears


but with time her habits changed and she often rushed past the tree
to stop at the corner of the house
and dance in the dark
her movements radiating
she gave birth to hopes
and passions
her sighs travelled through the night
and climed under a heavy blue blanket
somewhere at the feet of the green hills.