Point of Grace
by Mark Reep
Say the world is a smudged charcoal drawing. Slit from its frame, smuggled out of the Vatican. Don't say it couldn't happen. Who would know.
Say the world can't remember yesterday, or why its four corners curl up. Now, imagine a man who can't either, sitting at one of the world's ragged edges, considering that sea we call Night, and Time. From a waterstair he sketches by scraps of moonlight a crumbling wall he will one day call Point of Grace. Mist and dreamdrift beckon and elude.
Say you are he, or someone like: You wonder, fear, hope, all the usual. Mornings you wake clutching a duct-taped duffel; inside, you find a tin box of pencils, a swollen sketchbook, buckled drawings, scribbled warnings: Overstayed here. Don't go back. Maybe one day they will seem no stranger's dreams.
Is this so hard, really? No, nor should you mourn this moment's passing, a light already lost. Only offer what thanks you can, turn up your collar, and go on.
Say the world can't remember yesterday, or why its four corners curl up. Now, imagine a man who can't either, sitting at one of the world's ragged edges, considering that sea we call Night, and Time. From a waterstair he sketches by scraps of moonlight a crumbling wall he will one day call Point of Grace. Mist and dreamdrift beckon and elude.
Say you are he, or someone like: You wonder, fear, hope, all the usual. Mornings you wake clutching a duct-taped duffel; inside, you find a tin box of pencils, a swollen sketchbook, buckled drawings, scribbled warnings: Overstayed here. Don't go back. Maybe one day they will seem no stranger's dreams.
Is this so hard, really? No, nor should you mourn this moment's passing, a light already lost. Only offer what thanks you can, turn up your collar, and go on.
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Author's Note
First published in A-Minor Magazine. The drawing is currently featured in the Director's Choice exhibit at West End Gallery, Corning, NY. Artcards and prints available at my RedBubble store.
Other stories by Mark Reep
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This text and the drawing work so well together that it's hard to decide what came first and perhaps it doesn't matter because who'd like to decide that question when it came to "what was first, light or darkness?". excellent!
Marcus, sometimes bits of story or whatever come along while a drawing's in progress, and once the drawing's done I'll finish the text. It's been awhile since I did this one, but I expect that's more or less how it happened. Thanks for taking time to read and comment, glad you enjoyed.
Outstanding work, Mark - words & art. Wonderful meeting.
"Say you are he, or someone like: You wonder, fear, hope, all the usual. Mornings you wake clutching a duct-taped duffel; inside, you find a tin box of pencils, a swollen sketchbook, buckled drawings, scribbled warnings: Overstayed here. Don't go back."
Yes. Really like the form and pace here. Great writing.
From the first line on this piece makes my heart beat really fast with either anxiety or wonder--I can't tell! It's just wonderful.
I love the repetition of "Say the world" which is, yeah, what's happening here.*
"Mornings you wake clutching a duct-taped duffel; inside, you find a tin box of pencils, a swollen sketchbook, buckled drawings, scribbled warnings: Overstayed here. Don't go back." - the language here is stunning, agree with Jane about the effect of repetition. Great writing Mark.
'Is this so hard, really? No,'...
No, it isn't.
Absolutely beautiful writing. Poetic imagery on the edge of consciousness.