1982 BGGS Magazine

LUCY AND MAY, JUNE 1900 Age has yellowed that beloved photograph . The smooth matt swface has been marred with dust and dark iJ1{purities. Thick cardboard backing has also been tainted by the fingers ofpast generations ofadmiring persons. Marks of unknown composition have dis torted the complicated tendrils of the delicate embossing. Lucy and May sit ageless ii their aged world. Their youthful beauty has be en captured forever by a photographer, long since dead. I sit and wonder what he though eighty-two years ago when he set up his amaz ing photographic box. As he saw them then, I see them now. Lucy Florence Mulhen, great-grandmother ofKatherine S.windon . n seems almost ludicrous that that young lady could ever grow old. To me she sits there beside her youthful friend, May,forever- unconnected with the wrinkled old lady who now lives only faintly-in my memory. Lucy will always sit in a stiff muslin dress, with soft shoulders and a delicate ruffle running around her slight neck. Her eyes look knowingly upon me with the smile and expectations of youth subdued by her recent womanhood. Lucy's hair is pulled softly back, forming smooth curls around her flawless face . Sun and wind have not freckled or marred that pure complexion, smoothed over delicate bones. Her face not only holds the obvious beauty of a maturing yoting lady, it.also displays the haunting beauty ofa woman May sits beside Lucy, her hair freely flowing over her shoulders. One uncontrollable curl has crept rebe//iously over one side of her forehead. Unlike Lucy, May still retains the rounded face of a young girl. She does not sit quite upright, leaning towards the edge of the photograph as ifshe is ready to spring up. I feel she should not have been imprisoned forever by the photographer; rather she should be eternally in the garden , walking among rambling old rose bushes with hair trailing behind her in the wind. May and Lucy will sit together; forever in lime 1900. I wonder will a photograph, now sitting in a dark drawer, ofmy sister and me, ever be the subject offascination for a future descendant. ·

MY LOVE, THE SEA I wander down from my steadfast home to the shores of your expansive body. I know that life would not be the same · for me without you. You have many fac es. Faces of calm, anger, torment are all in your repertoire and I can do nothing to alter th em. You are the Sea, love ofcountless generations before me and those to come. As I stroll along your shores, I think how placidly you lap at the sand, gently shifting the land and composition of this earth. On a cool winter's afternoon, with the sun at my back, my shadow is part of you, moving in unison with the gentle curves of your waves that seem to have no power. After all, what are they but salty water without shape? It never ceases . to amaze me how this un/iving brine can cause so much destruction and never be lamed. · On a beautiful sunny day you glisten deep blue, covered with shimmering diamonds, disappearing and reappearing elsewhere. The swell of your body towards the shore can be strong and large or soft and smooth. I can relax in you as you caress my body with the soft fingers of waves; or I can have my sport by riding your waves to shore or by sitting in a boat, rocking to and.fro with sweet momentum as your waters flow on their endless journey beneath me. Night falls and I am forced to return to my house, which is made up ofall hard lines, hard floor and sti!!n,ess. It wi/1 not endure long but you will be thereforever. Sleep does not come easily as I lie on the unmoving bed. I can still feel the gentle swaying of my body while in your grip, being lolled up and down in harmony with your expanse. The monsoon comes and with it you change, pounding the beach till it cannot withstand your strength. I fear your grey depths and white foam but nevertheless gaze through my rain-dappled window at your rage with longing. What can I do but love you? Whatever you do to me, you will always be in my heart. If anything threatens your beauty, I rebel, no matter how you hr;Jve been deformed, and I will always retum to you, in your times of anger and silent calm. You hold n~any contrasts and you can shape the land on which I live. You separate me .from distant lands, but I can use you to reach them. You excite and terrify, bring joy and sadness, and yet you are worshipped in your glo1y. Oh great ocean, I love you for all your might)' strength, your beauty and your wavelets at my feet.

A nn Sharp

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