an infused
world, changing with sky
light weather–
we construct
alternates to confusion,
editing ourselves,
trying to
change the stories, shape
how we fit–
our doors swing
only in and out—not through,
not passing between—
our edges
are meant to divide–
what do we
really see?
surrounded by leeways–who
can control the wind?
A shadorma chain for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
K. 
This is lovely, Kerfe.
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Thanks Robbie.
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You have really captured the essence of the scene in the photograph.
Nothing is fixed nowadays, everything up for grabs. We change the world around us to suit our self image. At the risk of drawing down invective, I admit, some demands make me weary.
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Thanks Jane.
There seem to be no bearings to find amid so much weariness.
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I shouldn’t look at the threads on social media, the trading of insults between groups and groupuscules. Disagree with me and you’re an ignorant racist transphobe islamophobe Terf fascist and I’m calling out the boys/girls/others to come and kill you. I’m surprised anybody comments about anything at all.
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Everyone is a righteous purist. No grey areas allowed.
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Recuperation is the watchword. Everyone wants to be a moral authority jumping onto every bandwagon.
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Reality is as amorphous as the mist… and we shape it all the time.
Beautiful, Kerfe.
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Thanjs Sue.
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This liminal world with “doors swing
only in and out—not through,
not passing between—”
Your words fit the image, as well as expressing the misty world we’re in right now–where no one can control the wind.
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Thanks Merril. There seems. to be little we can control at the moment.
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Yes. It’s scary.
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