Unwinding

Unwinding 

Unwinding 

For seven days I will bathe, reconnecting fragments of body, soul and mind. 

I will listen to the beat of the heart, vibrating through the water, submerged 

in solitude, stillness, silence. 

A process of undoing and becoming, 

restoring in the stillness of our first physical state.

The bath is a womb. 

The past is sewn together loosely, catching the drip of the present.

A process of merging, an attempt to integrate.

The water leaks, it stains, it weeps;

Separating, it can never be whole again, 

spread across our many selves. 

Spilling, seeping, soothing.

There is no stopping the overflow. 

Soaking,

I tear apart the memories, suspended on a timeline.

Drenched, dripping, drying. 

Undoing, becoming, ongoing. 

I leave it all behind. 

Kaolin Clay 

Pink Clay 

Green Clay 

Red Clay 

Salt 

Charcoal 

Bathing in the white of the Mother’s milk, the paleness of newborn skin,

the blankness of the self at birth. 

Soaking in the pink of the flesh, of the nipple, of the lips, of touch.

Lying in the green of my eyes, precocious and bearing witness. 

Flooded in the red of rupture, menstruation, penetration. 

Steeped in the salt of blood, sweat and tears. 

Engulfed in the blackness of the unconscious, the unknown, the forgotten. 

Crocheted blanket handmade by my Grandmother, made before I was born. The baby grow i wore leaving the hospital after birth. My first dress, hat, outfit. Blankets woven throughout my childhood, threaded together. The bedsheet and bloodshed

of my first love. 

I leave it all behind.