Until the Eye Opens
                writings from blind faith

by Patricia Hughes


"Until the Eye Opens
   writings from blind faith" front cover

writing sample


Growing up in my house. I have feelings about it, but no words. Rebellion calcified around my bones—a second skeleton demanding I walk my way, not your way.


I am either/or, always. Scheming to get out of where I am, obsessed with trying to change how I feel about where I am.


...as I crumble, I feel my heart opening out to the joy from something other than me and I feel love towards this other something. How dangerous is this?


I understand somewhat, why I am here in Elk Creek. I understand why I bought the place—because it felt right, from in my gut to out through the top of my head in a geyser of desire. The bedrock. I am alone and unconnected bobbing and swaying in swells of hills rolling up into a towering and jagged coast.


Tall, red roses eat blood, drip tissue. They come in bunches on Valentines’ Day, at funerals, weddings, anniversaries, the events we feel. Roses eat blood.


Taking it all as it comes. Is it possible to bring you forth? Can you be summoned? I’m worn thin, translucent. I feel the ferns of your existence softy uncurl within me; I see the slow seed, seeking the sun.


I close my eyes and look inward down a million years or so and feel you there in that eternity between my right and left ribs.


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