Au revoir, Chantal Akerman

Chantal Akerman has left us yesterday, apparently of her own doing though I hesitate to write of her own choosing. She entrusts us with so much to watch and ponder, her films and writings encouragements to look at the world with different eyes.

Years ago at nineteen I wrote a very short prose about mothers of departed daughters, referring at the time mostly to girls my own age, but with the passing years I understood  that missing or deceased daughters’ age never matter. The film excerpt above is from her poignant latest documentary, No Home Movie.

Rest in peace Chantal and bon voyage, wherever it takes you.

to an angst-ridden daughter

in the past, swinging so high as to reach the sky, other galaxies, infinity, your big round eyes, two tiny green planets absorbing, touching those far away stars, two pale fists clenching those big cold chains, protecting you, preventing you from flying away.

later, swinging on a branch of the old imposing family tree, the biggest one, the windy one, hardly keeping your balance in the tempest, two autumn leaves in your face, just enough thunder to scare you away from here, counting the days and counting the nights without shelter, still not free, invisible tie.

now, swinging softly, let me wipe the blood off your cheeks with my sleeve, face closed, the rain dripping on your brown hair, fastened again to this world by this ugly dirty cruel rope, my once little child, naughty girl, let me take you in my arms and cover you up with my cape, shrink back as my new born baby girl (gone), shrink back and disappear, you finally succeeded at reaching the moon, you left me here (lost) for ever. away.