Mindless Mindful, Scared Nude poetry by Francesca Simonelli


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In the days leading up to my first solo show: Sacred Nude, I have asked poet and writer Francesca Simonelli to respond to my Sacred Nude drawings. What she did completely blew my mind away! Every day until the show opens I will post some of her very special, moving and inspiring poetry for you to enjoy.

Francesca Simonelli‘s poems have touched me and many others for many years and I was over the moon when Francesca agreed to write some words in response to the Sacred Nude series of artworks. Sacred Nude was inspired by a meditation practice that resulted in the healing of body and mind. I wanted to create a series that was dedicated to my meditation practice and the joy (and struggles) I encountered therein.

Exhibition opening: 22 September 2018, 6-9pm

Opening times: 1-5pm every Saturday until 20 October 2018

Inspiring and creative workshops each Saturday

Address:

Retreat Yoga Studio

367 New Cross Road

London, SE14 6AT

See home page to RSVP

 

Mindless-Mindful

By Francesca Simonelli

My heart

Slowed

To the point of emergency

Sounding the alarms

Of medical officials

I sat calmly

Questioning

“Do I want to stay…..

or do I want to go?”

I silently contemplated

Continuing the mindless monotony.

Exposed there

In the ER

Doctors swarming

Whispering

It may as well have been a dream

It was all so surreal

I sat

Neutralized

Seemingly unaffected

This wasn’t the first time.

With the near stroke

And inexplicable paralysis,

I panicked.

When in the midst of writing –

My hand simply stopped working

And I went numb.

Mindful

Only because my body forced me into submission –

That terrified me.

But this,

Now

I knew I could control my heart,

On some level.

I was in charge.

I could drop this body

And run,

Or let myself be lifted.

I walked out –

Mindless

Mindful

Perhaps a bit of both…

While the doctors were huddled

Not telling me their plan

Down the hallway,

As if I were already flat-lined.

They did not include me

In their conversation

As though I were an eavesdropper from the other team

Listening in on their mysterious tactics

While the head coach

Mumbled indiscernibly.

I did not trust their approach

Or methodology

But it was a Sunday

And my holistic doctor was not the “on-call” sort

Unless it truly were an emergency

I just was not convinced.

I would wait….

I was ok if I died waiting

But I knew in that moment

It was completely up to me.

With blind faith

I walked away

My legs still as sexy as ever

I could have been a dancer

I sauntered off that artificially lit stage

Where I would have been hooked up

And God only knows what…

Tested

Inserted

Grabbed

Handled

Poked

Prodded.

You know the routine….

The, “Lie down and take it” investigation

A ridiculous process of elimination.

Now

I rest my body when she calls intermission

My legs like antennae

One pointing to the heavens

Reminding me that I am made of stars

The other pointing to the earth

Reminding me that I am made of dirt

I may hide my arms behind my back

I may not let many people in

But believe me when I say

I am wide open

And I know who I am.

Mindful

Many fleeting moments

Still

Mindless

Most days.


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