Woman stuck in the 360 degree traffic jam

entry picture

Driving home in the falling dusk, another day has already passed, she is constrained by plastic and steel, her visions are obscured by windows tinted against the world and in the following of her road home she feels the drowning tide of traffic flow systems, they steal her breath, leave her buffeted and gasping in their changing currents. Around the traffic island shoals of cars swim, dodging and flowing, multicoloured scales glistening in the water. Waving antennae taste the air and catch the radio waves playing this un-chosen soundtrack to her life. Red flares all around splitting against her eye painful neon flashlights. All movement suspended, she sits, the world has stopped. It’s been a long day, and now she waits aching and tired in the car

 

 

 

 

The island rises out from this tarmac sea. Growing, leafless now in winter’s grip the silver birch bends against the wind and rain. Aging grasses twist hiding the earth from view. The soil is sweet and soft in her protection.  No man walks here, and nature breathes freely, touched only by the passing seasons. The woman takes her mind walking through the trees and bending her head to taste the fresh water on the long grasses. She stands again and stretches raising her arms upwards, reaching her fingers into the falling rain, raising her face to its vibrant stinging touch lifting and swaying with the trees.

 

The traffic moves, she is back in her place at the wheel waiting to pass through this man made crevice, twitching and edging against each other the cars feel the pressure of the movement keeping them apart, eyes flick sideways but rarely make contact. She makes it her habit to smile at the eyes as they catch her face, breaking for a moment their self imposed frantic isolation. How many hours will she choose to spend in just this place, how many more evenings will it take before she leaves the car and sets out to walk over the island never again travelling in the stream but set free and following her own path to her dreams.

 

 

 

 

this was written some time ago , prompted by Mr Garside , and is posted today as my good friend Laura Taylor asked me to do so . I know i dont spend much time here. Maybe when i have finished studying I will be more active :)

 

◄ Standing in the 'lost child light'

going round the twist ►

Comments

Profile image

Francine

Fri 30th Sep 2011 21:36

I enjoyed reading this too... so many descriptive feelings and of longing to be somewhere else... a real sense of freedom in letting your mind wander.

<Deleted User> (6315)

Fri 30th Sep 2011 14:53


It was great to read you!
You have caught that feeling of claustrophobia so well but with the great observations intertwined too you bring out some hope that maybe one day..nice work indeed.. :)

Profile image

Laura Taylor

Fri 30th Sep 2011 13:55

I love this. At first you almost start feeling the same claustrophobic almost-migraine-like oppression as the writer, and then it gently and sweetly brings you out of that, to a new level of calm and beauty...and real hope and inspiration at the end.

Fantastic my dear, thanks for posting. Exactly suits my mood this week :) xx

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message