Out of Choice, by Kate Copeland

Waves, Crete, photography by Trine Juel. (CC BY 2.0) Flickr.

Out of Choice
​
This poem was inspired by a photograph by Jorge Rueda (Spain). Click here to view.

The realisation that I needed to wear a violent red, that I had put it on
me, out there, against a peaceful blue

all's hidden underneath my skin, and I thought, knew, that once 
the disconnection waved in, the unsafety, 

the red escaped and in an instant, alien became less distant, fluid 
in my daily countenance. How I have always 

assumed you were the rock and I the water, how it turned out 
to be all the same. And me fully capable 

of standing on stones in this fluidity of waves, in this distractive life. So once 
I left the cliff edge, I felt the wind in my face, 

felt the depth & distance again - and I know the cracks of then and 
the hills of now, will become a passage

a progress, through the fragments I breathe, for the joy I choose. 
You went along with a trust to my inner world 

while you wouldn’t anyway. So I decided to wend my place, to dream up
some furnishing and survive nonetheless. Once your heart

has jumped out of your body, the rivers & tides bound to smooth over 
and a structured daydreaming will bring out 

the bright, fresh dawning I need to scare off the ghosts of my lost night, 
a subverted realism to coast through 

a clear consciousness over the guilt and some uneasy providence. What is
done, is done. True. One can only choose the waves so well. ​

Kate Copeland

Kate Copeland started absorbing stories ever since a little lass. Her love for words led her to teaching and translating some sweet languages, her love for art, lyrics and water led her to poetry ... with some readings and publications sealed already! She was born in Rotterdam some 52 ages ago and adores housesitting in the UK, US and Spain.