Painting lecturer Annemarie Murland has responded to the Happily Ever After exhibition through poetry.
He loves her with dark eyes. She knows that in the fractured frame of a door
closed shut, where rests her skin in homage to a life long lost.
Selkie mistress meditates silent vespers towards the gentile island whose
gaze is wide so, that she cannot swim over. And as sunlit ice breaks over
waters edge, her eyes caste downward. Her season has arrived.
Close to the lips of wake, she sighs; Atlantis no more echo’s her coainadh.
Lamenting loss sounds over the Minch as dark eyes dart beneath surfaces
wet in faith, tell nothing but silence in the abyss where she waits the dulse
music that is her call to mate.
Bodhran beats of wave gently lap against her skin, where docking love leaves
her bare and open like the Minch that separates her from her ain. Swollen
she rises to dive beneath waters dark that penetrate pillows of pleasure.
Bottomless and waterlogged she wavers for her centre, the sea.
Rank smells fill the air and her waters petrify through stone and heart to the
place, memory, which rests in still silence to stroke her hide in sleep. In
drowning love, detritus, shame recovers in the sunken salt water of mother’s
tears that flow freely down skint pelt that hangs beyond fractured door,
Beyond the season she arrives where it began, the Minch, her lover wide and
deep lays sound in ground without skin of comfort. Delivered, her freedom is
wet as sound attached to mother tongue she enters waters edge of blue swell
recoiling not the call of the sea. Her coainadh wakes.