in the soft blackness of the night
heavily veiled in mystery
the remembrance garden deep in my heart
there is so much to feel
perhaps prayer is like that
the seething inside
too full of living to be written down
It’s wanting keeps us going
like a wrong key turning round and round in a lock
It’s all the unwordable things one wants
and having nothing happen  

Life is full of opposite contraries
the freedom of memory and imagining
a longing to know and understand
so that nothing is lost
that makes the skin of you
feel like something namelessly exquisite
there is a lonely, blue brooding over everything
always unfolding, never in a hurry  

I am circled by trees
moss, very deep and silent
the creatures are all folded down in sleep
the holy ones
guarding their precious secrets
a sky quivering with movement
glimpses of the between places    

~ Cento of lines taken from Hundreds and Thousands, The Journals of Emily Carr, p. 75, 78, 81, 84, 91, 103, 116, 117, 121, 127, 138, 152, 158, 165, 174, 179, 181, 183, 184, 201,206, 222, 239