Lest She Was Hollow

She forgave with her hands so her heart would remember
And those dancing fingers dispel all shame,
But within she knows how slow to trust her ghost heart is.
One day to revel, the next it runs, callous, cold, bereft.
She loves like an artists paints; all at once
And with everything, withholding no explosive desire.
She always touched more than skin
Having detailed the kisses that interspersed her loyalty with intricate care.
She held on lustfully and let go with grace.
All for her lovers like portraits, seasoned with
Her very essence, so much so that you could tell
Who had her heart just by a glance across the room.
And her heart was a home that framed each flame
To be kissed when their canvas dried. All die with time.
For a little while
She’d be satisfied before,on impulse,
She would layer her craft further;
Love of the luxurious kind, outpours that made her wretch ’till she was empty
And she was unhappy lest she was hollow.

By Rohini James
Copyright June 2014
All Rights Reserved

Casual Religion

Casual religion-Rohini james

This piece, done in graphite and watercolor, began as a solely experimental venture. It’s entire course unintentional, much of its appearance is the result of compensating for and hiding a plethora of mistakes. However in examining it in search of a title, “Casual Religion” struck an abrupt and resounding chord that seized me.

Many of the best sculpted works of art are ancient, as are the most popular or best known religious orders. By a series of faulty brush strokes the statue ended up meditating with an air of nonchalance and detachment from an otherwise internally edifying activity. Cobwebs collect in the crooks of her joints and she is defaced by age, evident in a cracked foot that has long since broken off of her.

It is meant to convey that everyday fewer people are identifying with organized religious groups. And what is left? A hipster here and there shaving their heads to console their spirits or an enthused convert clutching a crucifix for dear life while the rest of the world sleeps on their deities, revisiting them at thinly spread intervals or falling at their feet when woes befall them much like children dosing off in church only to be startled by the reprimanding of their parents. This is simply a statement of my personal observation that does not necessarily reflect universal reality. I draw and find meaning in things that are seen, and vision like everything human is limited.

Still, strictly from a visual point of view, I count this experiment a success, ignoring the fact that my sleep deprivation and personal biases may be clouding my judgement.

 By Rohini James
Copyright June 2014
All Rights Reserved