Labyrinth of Grief
2000
The concept for this exhibition was inspired by research about women historically. The information that researchers use to construct the lives of these women is often print and often only partial using letters and journals as well as newspaper clipping I have constructed in my own image as it would be through the academic eyes of the future.
-Jewelles Smith, 2000
Stalagmite Tears
Voice of Lucifer
Migraine of Remorse
Labyrinth of Grief
The dream began shortly after she died
I would close my eyes seeking relief…
Stained notes plucked singly from untuned strings
Become the orchestra unceasing through the night
A drumbeat echoes in the chamber of hearts
Escalating then silencing, a wave of rhythm
Each organ resting upon the previous
A wall beating with life suspended
Descend into the hypnotic trance
Flesh itching to escape
Arms,
Tendrils of ivy stretching out to encircle
In a claustrophobic embrace
Her finger beckons in an obscene enticement
To dance upon subconscious decay
The swaying begins and the music evolves
Scattered and dense with the steps of this waltz
The nature of her memory softens
Exhaustion settles into pores
Hemorrhaging tears of mortality
Streaming pursuit of memory
Pulsing, taste of metallic upon tongue
The world closes in
Sharp turn in the tunnel becomes a test of wits
The voice of Lucifer tickles my ear
As he weaves golden clues of the endless expanse
Reach out to the light…
Fingers dig into another moist, mud slick wall
Defeat weighs,
Chin rest on chest
A rhythm of pursuit shakes creation
Frantic to retrieve balance
Breathe…
Visions
Of angles
Mouths open in a mute parody of song
Seraphic nails clawing
At the glass of their sound-proof box
Death
Silenced the melody of her caresses
An empty womb premature canyon
Leaving boundaries
Pregnant with stories born to remain unwritten
Migraine
Scratching record
Playing thunder upon the perimeters of my skull
A strategic illumination of scenic tours
Where she watches listless,
Awaiting the breath of life
Mother,
Flailing survivor in these dark, salty thoughts
Dripping descent forming stalagmites on the floor
Sorrow lurks beneath a
Cloak of shimmering aurora borealis
Pass through this labyrinth purgatory of grief
Twist to avoid the cold brush
Of wings disturbed by your hurried steps.
Pause,,
then turn to inhale the scent of fresh afterbirth
Innocent, new blood…
Hear the rustle of damp wings,
Stretch out from behind her shoulders
Whisper of longing,
She,
A chrysalis unfolding, ready to fly, and
Exit this maze
-Jewelles Smith