by Paul van Leusden
She is bare. Has been for a while now. But he is not worried yet. He sits on top of her, as high as he could climb, and lets his feet dangle. The sky is clear tonight. A sharp wind is blowing too. It hurts his ears and makes them turn fiery red, but she probably doesn't feel a thing.
Tonight there are stars, and he is just a young man and she just a vantage point. But they have been many things together. There were vicious attacks by bloodthirsty wolves, which he fought off from within his indestructible wooden fortress. As a fearless captain he withstood the biggest storms with her bow cutting through the most violent waves. And sometimes he was a little boy who wanted to get away, and she was the one who would make him disappear.
If he leans back carefully and doesn't move too much he can lie almost flat. She has room enough for two. He has brought some people up here. To sit and talk and stare and what not. And she has been okay with all of them. After a while they would leave and never come back. He never really cared.
She is bare. Changed color earlier than usual. But she still feels firm. Safe. He's not worried yet.
I love language; all my writings are just flawed attempts at trying not to hurt it.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'A Mother's Burden'
'The Journey '
'Linney Carries the Boys'