#writer norma wightman

[dabiconcordia]

Elbows—

ugly in most cases—pointy, seamed, scarred from past encounters with contact sports, door jams, and counters. Is there a secret inscription, strike here, hidden in the skin folds?

Intense electric shock courses through one’s body when that hinge is struck and reverberates like a gong opening Valhalla in a Wagnerian scene. A stinging paralysis of pain follows.

But it is a valuable hinge—useful for lifting a wine glass to eager lips, waving broadly to a crowd, and throwing arms around a loved one. Fortunately, your own elbow’s ugliness is almost impossible for you to see. by Norma Wightman

#poem #writer norma wightman #elbows #splendorinthesouth #via pinterest.com

[dabiconcordia]

Canyon with an Aura

The red sandstone canyon glows, lit with the fiery sunset’s reflection. There is no trail, but the canyon sides themselves usher me along through mesquite and sagebrush until I reach the blunt end of this box canyon.

I stand for several minutes soaking in the aura— no sound, no wind around me. My skin prickles. Is there a sudden drop in temperature? Senses on alert, I hear no sound I can distinguish, yet my ears strain as if there should be sound.

I sense I am on hallowed ground. Soundlessly, I lift my hands in Namaste, hoping my peaceful walk is not an intrusion on ancestral land. I am alone, but not alone. by Norma Wightman

#red canyon of ruxing gao #photography pinterest.com #writer norma wightman