Magpie Tales A Reflection

The Magpie Tales series continues. Each week an image is offered as a jumping off point for writers of fiction, poetry, fantasy, commentary, crime. You name the possible destination, it takes the 40 odd writers there each week. It all emanates from Willow of Willow Manor. Her site is worth a visit and her subsite Magpie Tales is the engine behind these stories.


For me this exercise has brought me into the midst of an instant community of writers (none of whom I have or probably ever will meet); it has become a discipline and a challenge to keep thinking about writing; and it has brought many potential readers to my writing. (A writer needs an audience). This group is not only audience but also offers support, critique (gentle thankfully) and a sense of magic - the affirmation of life via a network of strangers all seeking to put their creative contributions front and centre.

So this is the next image. As usual I am flummoxed.

The last image, the 1KG weight had me stumped. I get stuck on the concrete image and have to wait and wait until the deadline forces me beyond the obvious and into another mode. Last week it was my days as a teacher which emerged; the week before the Victorian bushfires. This week. Oh gawd here we go again.


I'm sure every contributor is having the same experience. last week the 1KG was everything from a doorstop in a house of ghostly memories, a talisman in a fantasy, a story with a pun on Weighting for Godot etc etc.......... and it was also the trigger for a beautiful poem about the soul which was offered by Willow who herself is the high priestess of this writer's site. Here it is:

Dead Weight

What separates the living
from the dead?

I've heard it said
a few grams
of something
measurable

leaves the body
at the point
of death.

A minuscule weight.
Heavier than air.
More than
that last breath.

What's there?
Where does it go?
When does it start?

Can human scales
detect the absence
of a soul?

Is the sum
of our parts
less than the whole?

willow, 2010