Monika Schott

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A life of 'oh wells' are greater than a life of 'what ifs'. I write to express life in all its glory, to spark thinking … I love to swim outside, practise hot yoga and hit the boxing studio. I'm currently undertaking a PhD research to capture the social history of the community that lived on Melbourne's first sewerage farm. I've had several short stories published, my latest being 'The Teacher' in 'These winter months'. I was short-listed in the Ada Cambridge Prize, won the inaugural Wyndham Rotary Arts Small Business Award and have a Masters of Communication where I looked at boys and reading and what it is they like to read.

The form of kaleidoscope

b2ap3_thumbnail_Flower-Kaleidescope.jpg

Broken and shattered, sometimes fractured, smatterings of shards of every size and shape.

It begins as a brittleness, a weakness that with every morsel sampled, dries more and more to become fragile until pieces suddenly snap off and fall away. Soon and without realising, they’re tumbling in gathered speed to freefall as an unknown journey to somewhere.

Snagging off scarps and clipping through craggy crevices that scratch angry, the freefall gathers momentum to hurtle towards a pit of devastation, a black hole with no landing. Pieces that once gelled to form the most glorious wings, flap in frantic fright as severely clipped with quills lost make wings useless to fly free.

Sometimes it’s not a slow fracture that bleeds to a fall but more a sudden and unexpected plummet from cloudless, blue skies, without warning or knowledge of any underlying delicate balance.

How and why ...

A burly panic, a paste and patch to fill the cracks and invisible pores that even under a magnifying glass can’t be seen. Scraps and specks, fragments and flecks ... somehow they must mend into one, to capture that essence of soulful core before it drains to depleted dry, before it becomes barren and desolate in a forgotten land. And then lifeless. And more struggle with the lifeless.

These chunks and slivers of shapes never seen before must rejoin with a super glue of the utmost strength and magical powers to form the ultimate bond.

Piece by piece, they mend back together to form something else, never in the original form that once was. New forma are made, new calluses spread over wounds and seams to strengthen that fragile resolve. These new forms are more beautiful and intricate than ever before with dents that dazzle in colours unseen and frays that frizzle to create a most unique and interesting kaleidoscope of form.

Sometimes though, the join or wound cannot mend and it becomes a permanent weakness where the slightest knock can damage severely. Sometimes, the super glue is inferior in quality or an imitation that’s simply a paste of flour and water, is used and the pieces can’t mend no matter what. Or if they mend, the first rain drop that skims the join becomes like sulphuric acid rampant on innocent skin.

It’s sad, heartbreaking. But even then, a new form is born.

As pieces come together and clipped wings mend, appreciate the intricate contours of form made, the breaks and falls, the welds that make up the unique and individual kaleidoscope of life. 

Recent Comments
Katherine Gregor
Beautiful.
Saturday, 16 August 2014 09:44
Monika Schott
Thanks Katherine
Sunday, 17 August 2014 08:22
Rosy Cole
Life! An exquisite prose poem.
Saturday, 16 August 2014 15:27
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8 Comments

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