Tuesday 22 July 2008

Turtle Dream

It was the turtle that did it
Last night (just now) in my dream
He was wandering nonchalantly, or so it seemed,
Along a country road, with huge cars whizzing by
Somehow managing to miss his sturdy little body
As they sped on their way over him.

I sat and watched in amazement, until
- What am I doing, lying here in the hot sun
Sketching drawings, watching the turtle
Waiting for surely imminent death by squashing?

I got up and 'rescued' the turtle
Picked it up off the road
And brought it back to my workspace
Placed it down amidst the notebooks and pens
Watched it find its feet in the new environment.
I photographed it with my camera
Snap after snap of wrinkly turtle head
Eyes staring back at me, expectant?
Or annoyed? Perhaps I'd moved him
From an essential journey. His life's journey.
Perhaps he was on the road he was meant to travel.

Not any more, or, infact, yes, still on the road
Just a different view, different surrounds, philosophy
Different experiences from the one he'd gotten used to
Over, however long he'd been travelling on the road.

I put the photographed steps together
In a row. I sketched them. Fragments
of a life; a being; a moment;
Each one on its own, yet joined to the next
By an invisible thread.

It was the turtle that did that.

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