The Meditation Of The Glass (excerpts)

That morning I found her in the kitchen nailed in front of the sink delving deep into the water glass squatting in front of here… should she… shouldn’t she… drink it… the small glass container contained more than a mere half of water… empty full… who knows… who cares… she didn’t seem bother… but she was like meaning to read as though in a crystal ball… the ins and outs of her past… the pros and cons of her future… the wherewithal of all her life…

That was precisely when she saw I had seen her… there the stain the mark the trace maculating proof that she had drunk from the glass… the red lipstick brand like tattooed to the brim of the offending trinket…

Now let’s hope nobody will see it… let’s hope nobody will show it… that she had come… she had come here… around here… to this place… these whereabouts… only to find herself… to find herself faced with herself… this haven… in the mirror… reflecting the facts of her life when she found it so hard to face herself as it was… as she was… but then again those lips there on the glass that smile that kiss was indeed part of her and the living proof that she was indeed here…

But already her gaze was returning to the void… the emptiness devoiding her of her self… avoiding herself… he had resumed her meditation by way of the instrument in passing… staying its outstanding welcome… the tinless glass of the glass mirrored but then the tinless glass was thus ended light into the penetration of her person in this space… in this place…

She had come here to rest… for an arrest… a break… a pause… a hold… a halt on life… to take time for herself… take her time… giver her time time… lose herself in her own time… get a grip on her life again… her fast-paced life… passing her by way too fast… she had come here to rest… not to be beside herself but to reunite with herself… not to let herself pass her by… no way… to get away… to get her way… and there she was losing herself in a mere glass… mere glass as it was offering to show her what she was… who she was… face to face with herself…

She was indeed truly well there… faced with her face… as she was facing the world… trying to free herself from herself and the world… she had come here for a bit of respite… to rest… to lie… to lay down her arms… her weapons… let her hair down not let herself down… lose herself only to find herself better again…

And in that empty glass she could see the full glass again… full anew… a new glass had been filled for her… when so many had given in for a drink a slurp… one gulp too many… she had kept on route en route to success… never mind the storm in the teacups… never mind the rocking and rolling of this tug-of-war of a life… never mind… she had surf the crest of the wave and was riding again… rising again… from run aground to a higher ground… for even a half-empty glass remained half full…

Jesse CRAIGNOU

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