Siân Lester: what remains…

Intimate, interlaced human - plant reflections, away in Corris.

Windfall lichen,

ancient slow growth.

Collectively gathered,

porous for dialogue.

Human hand of threads,

inextricably intertwined.

Alchemic fusion of heat,

of time; leaving their marks.

Sawn and burnt,

troublesome leylandii.

Dragged and placed

reluctantly, battling with

it’s unbreakable rubbery form.

Mysterious, unexplored pot,

yielding golden amber hues.

Heady, hefty medicinal

aroma, diffusing the space.

Screaming scars on the rock, 

from machinery long gone.

Raw, eternal sheerness.

Soft decaying, ephemeral.

Reaching out for light,

reclaiming the space.

Oozing stalactite darkness,

feeling for islands of stability.

Fragments of human debris,

that tell segments of a story.

Unfired and left to decompose.

Deteriorating the imprint of a presence.

Relinquishing control and purpose,

nestled in the safe hands of bracken.

Bodily impressions in the glutinous soil.

Clay wrapped by hand around rust

discoloured cables, taught with tension.

Brightness.

Reluctance to part the fringed

valley of thawing branches.

Dripping icy silver liquid and

falling to the fleece of a line below.

Their path trodden down

to bare earthy impacted remains.