
memory she thinks is like a house on fire forcing mind into perennial present flames monstrous in brutal beauty stark revelations only to be scattered in ash and ruin cherished rooms once filled with laughter and tears and quiet morning comforts now all engulfed in roaring madness she came through this door for something for somewhen for someone but it all burns furiously fast leaving blackened lintels and knobs too hot to touch no closure on the unremembered she can only watch an outsider on her own life as forgotten mementos blacken and burn curling into insignificance while she mutters vain imprecations against the consuming destruction
The surreal art of Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) is endlessly inspiring. This image felt especially relevant for me today, as age and illness are having their way with me.
©Elizabeth Anker 2022
