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Shroud

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Shroud

Shroud

i am thirsty, the rains don’t 

come anymore, the earth is 

dry, i want to grow upward but

a darkness blankets my crown so

the sun no longer bathes me, my 

leaves wither early, pool in the

pit where once stood a home.

i am stuck here as the world whirls on; there 

may not be time to sprout new buds again.

i am thirsty, the rains don’t 

come anymore, the earth is 

dry, i want to grow upward but

a darkness blankets my crown so

the sun no longer bathes me, my 

leaves wither early, pool in the

pit where once stood a home.

i am stuck here as the world whirls on; there 

may not be time to sprout new buds again.

 

 

 

the shroud is taut, holds me

back so there’s nowhere to go but

down, reach roots like gnarled fingers

into broken foundations, no 

minerals left in concrete so i

reach down further, plunge my 

taproot thru the soil, find water—

an aquifer, water trapped in rock.

i drink but it’s salty, salt patches my bark; what

i’ve found is a depthless reservoir of tears.

 

 

the shroud is taut, holds me

back so there’s nowhere to go but

down, reach roots like gnarled fingers

into broken foundations, no 

minerals left in concrete so i

reach down further, plunge my 

taproot thru the soil, find water—

an aquifer, water trapped in rock.

i drink but it’s salty, salt patches my bark; what

i’ve found is a depthless reservoir of tears.

 

 

 

i am immobile, roots grip the

ground like mother’s body gripped

her bed, trusted we’d always be fed 

where we grew but now earth and sky 

forsake us, now the shroud and 

endless bank of tears. channeling them

comes to feel like a duty, to feel

the pain of a hundred generations, who

stored it there in summer when the

growing still was easy; when drunk on 

storms they passed it down, down, down.

 

 

 

i am immobile, roots grip the

ground like mother’s body gripped

her bed, trusted we’d always be fed 

where we grew but now earth and sky 

forsake us, now the shroud and 

endless bank of tears. channeling them

comes to feel like a duty, to feel

the pain of a hundred generations, who

stored it there in summer when the

growing still was easy; when drunk on 

storms they passed it down, down, down.

 

 

 

slowly laboriously i eek

these words out, learn to

separate salt from water, breathe

thru the shroud and create new 

sweetness, save it up beneath thorns;

hope it’s enough to grow some flesh

around the little pits forming at my 

fingers, protect these seeds of faith.

dear god, let there be time to bear this fruit

and still a creature left to find it.

 

slowly laboriously i eek

these words out, learn to

separate salt from water, breathe

thru the shroud and create new 

sweetness, save it up beneath thorns;

hope it’s enough to grow some flesh

around the little pits forming at my 

fingers, protect these seeds of faith.

dear god, let there be time to bear this fruit

and still a creature left to find it.

Shroud was made from the bottom of a spiritual well. Carly and Lucas came together in June of 2021 with an improvisational approach towards creation between dance and film, and from this place Shroud emerged.  From a place of pure expression and corporeal detoxification, Shroud is a visual foray into caustic experience and release. 

  • Choreography + Performance:

    Carly Lave

  • Direction and Photography:

    Lukas Markman

  • Cinematographer:

    Jack Langlois

  • Editor:

    Jacob Bottorf

  • Colorist:

    Adán Langbaum

  • Composer:

    Charles Moret

  • HMUA/Stylist:

    Noam Gad Weiser

  • Poem:

    Delilah Friedler

Shroud was made from the bottom of a spiritual well. Carly and Lucas came together in June of 2021 with an improvisational approach towards creation between dance and film, and from this place Shroud emerged.  From a place of pure expression and corporeal detoxification, Shroud is a visual foray into caustic experience and release. 

  • Choreography + Performance:

    Carly Lave

  • Direction and Photography:

    Lukas Markman

  • Cinematographer:

    Jack Langlois

  • Editor:

    Jacob Bottorf

  • Colorist:

    Adán Langbaum

  • Composer:

    Charles Moret

  • HMUA/Stylist:

    Noam Gad Weiser

  • Poem:

    Delilah Friedler