e-graphX digital fine art gallery Fall 2004 - Winter 2004-5. “e-Xploring the science of art and the art of science.” ™

Space

The wind :

cold menacing ,

wretched howling,

screamed until it seemed

it would snow forever.

Freezing bitter

loud & evil,

we heard it and feared

it would swollow us all.

Where was it coming from?

This cold and hungry force,

screaming from a dream I had

of dark clouds

racing.

Where was it coming from?

This cold , hungry force

my friend identified as

"an evil something out in space."

"I need room", she said,

"I need air.

My chest is so heavy,

and my legs won't move.

Why is it so hot in here?

Why am I so cold?"

Wiping beads of sweat

from her upper lip,

she pulled her wet nightgown

away from her armpits.

Gesturing to escape the heat,

her hand brushed a wave of ice cold air

across my cheek.

Abandoning my stance, afraid, I took a seat.

"Seven,

what is it about that number?", she asked,

pacing,

crying

as confused, as I was tired.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded,

"Please don't leave me.

'Cause the evil wants to swollow me,

and you have the energy

to make it back off."

Voices in the wind

screamed all night long.

There was no rest,

no sleep til dawn.

When staring out the nearly naked lawn

the snow lay down,

a tired blanket of lace.

A pitiful offering

from an angry atmosphere.

Later on

rushing

late for work,

racing against the hours,

I could barely look up.

Then the phone rang.

Voices I know cried :

"Girl, have you heard?

The Challenger has exploded!"

I saw: Visions of fire,

flames dancing on ice.

Bodies breathless

burning,

vanished as ashes

settling like salt in a wound.

Solomon says,

the hungers of death and Hell,

are never silenced.

Never satisfied.

Vanished,

as ashes from an urn.

Silenced. Sacrificed in space.

Dying without grace:

The wind

cold,

breathless

screams on.

-Verneda (Rikki) Lights,

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