A compilation of self-portraits and poems by Natalia Sandrine
They said ride it out like a wave, as she stumbled under the force of the undertow
Why shall I dance when I can hear no music?
Why shall I embrace when I feel no warmth?
Why shall I gaze when I see no light?
Why shall I harvest when I smell no fragrance?
Why shall I eat when I taste no sweetness?
What am I if not my senses?
Why shall I be if I am not me?
She was chasing the sun with no concern for being burnt
She felt betrayed as she held it in her hands
Her tears were fire in a droughted wood
She hid under a sheltering tree, that had been stripped of its leaves
She hid the 10-foot beast behind her back
Never has she felt smaller or more foolish
She was drowning in her longing for water
~Water is Life
She longed to resemble her beast
For acknowledgment or punishment, she couldn’t tell
There is no more bitter taste than the bite of a fruit you cannot take
The rattle warned off the bite
She knew too well the sting of her venom for it remained in her blood
She placed pieces of her soul in all that surrounded her
She was a shell; nothing without those who now possessed her sunlight
With nothing left to give, she cannot bare to take
She was a dried rose- no sweet smell, and unable to draw water, her thorns felt to be all that remained
Her beast is ever hungry, ever seeking new prey
It prowls in the minds of all who approach her, it feeds on the will of those who remain
She was an uprooted sunflower (Being) among blossoming trees (Thriving)
To depend on someone who isn’t there, is to drink water from the sea to quench your thirst
Don’t ask for fruit from a withering tree
She will fall faster, acutely aware of the bareness of her branches
The sun drew out the warmth from her body
She watched as her soul evaporated, dissipated into the sky
In the absence of light, one can still see her dulled soul shine
In the presence of light, her soul is no match and she fears she may have no spark left at all
I am a stone though I long to be water
I am a tree though I long to be air
I am a fist though I long to be an open hand
I am teeth though I long to be breath
I am me
Shall I long then, not to be?
She was pulled between two worlds without choice or warning. Gravity now exists in the fourth dimension with a newfound ferocity
The wind summoned her gently but persistently…Defiant or incapable, resistant or trapped—neither she nor the wind were sure
The force of the ocean has the power to beat or to soften—the difference lies in patience and acceptance of humble defeat
Even jagged stone can become fine sand
When she sees in shades of gray, she paints in color
When the music that surrounds becomes muted tones of noise, she sings gently
When her world moves with heaviness and incoordination, she dances with grace
When all her efforts fail and it is sure that the world holds more shadows than light, she becomes an actor—she acts with conviction
She will see beauty in the world, because she has created beauty in the world