Imagined thoughts of Kyra as Bravo departs:
My life as I know it is dead. Everyone I knew, every place I visited, gone. How to write of this, or even speak of it. Words and emotions have never been close. Translation falls to hell and frustration burns beyond the fingers to soothe. Where we go from here seems pointless. I feel like the soldier who survives the massacre, standing amidst smoke and fire, surveying a landscape of death, of the hand of fate upon the entire company, save one, save myself. Some ghosts still walk with blood in their veins. I know. I am one of them.
15 comments:
i know exactly how she feels.
especially right now.
bad couple of weeks. bad. bad.
--snow
Snow, if I could, I would send my arms to hold you through the darkness. Just know, I'm gonna need them back. ;-)
Thanks for stopping by. Funny how even a blog visit can brighten one's day. Thank you. Will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. Take care my friend.
Well written Tree, loved it. The pain, the lyricism, all of it.
Janete, thank you. I've been watching your poems. I long to know them as you do. To make them my skin and not just someone else's coat I wear on a cold night. Take care my friend. And keep writing.
playing with a very slight revision:
My life as I know it is dead. Everyone I knew, every place I visited, gone. How to write of this, or even speak of it. Words and emotions have never been close. Translation falls to hell and frustration burns beyond the fingers to soothe. Where we go from here seems pointless. I feel like the soldier who survives the massacre, standing amidst smoke and fire, surveying a landscape of death, of fate’s hand upon the entire company, save one, save myself, condemned to memory. Some ghosts still walk with blood in their veins. I know. I am one of them.
I like the revision. It's been a while, I'm glad to see at least one of my old haunts is still writing a little.
Sherri, so good to see you stopping by again. I too have recently gone through a divorce similar to yours. Likewise, the company I had worked for went bankrupt. So to see your blog and your humor was very refreshing. :-)
This is exactly what Ashoka the Great thought after he surveyed the battlefield after winning the battle of Kalinga. And then he decided to renunciate and became a wanderer..
Mona, haven't heard of Ashoka but his experience sounds interesting. Thanks for the heads-up. Hope and trust all is well. Nice to see you stopping by.
You're the male version of me. LOL You poor thing.... I'm glad I could make you laugh once again.
Well then, may god have mercy on us both. :-D
Incredible piece of writing, haunts the soul as one is reading to the point where there is desire if not need to step back, for fear of being encased, for feeling the pain within the words too deeply - reality is there is no choice, read is read, and one emerges at the end with the sense of having had a brief glimse of 'hell'.
Extremely affecting post - excellent in the writing.
Thanks Sunshine. Although we have had over 260 posts featuring Kyra, I really believe this one shows us a side of her we've never seen or at least never seen in this way. And now, everything about her changes, as if before she was a character and now, a person. I feel as if I could start the story with this post and let everything flow from her sense of loss, of leaving Hyneria and what that means, which is about as stated here. So, to what extent does she reinvent herself and a future and to what extent does she take, from memory, who she was? And how does this battle wage within her? How does she define herself? And. most important, how does she move forward, especially after the death of Kieran? I can imagine he gave her some sense of meaning, of a future. How does/did she carry on after he died, after she came out of the coma and had direct experience of the world beyond, of a place he was now, of a place she wasn't. Sigh. The more I know Kyra, the more I feel her quotidian melanic garb is more than just a fashion choice.
i must confess i haven't followed all the thread(s) of your story, but this doesn't prevent me from enjoying each tiny fragment of it, actually it is amazing how well they stand out on their own, gorgeous pieces of poetry... you write as always, with such piercing intensity.
the warmest hug for you, dear Tree.
Roxana, thanks for the very kind words. I always try to write as if words could fly or sing, as if somehow the gaps between letters and words and sentences and even paragraphs could disappear and something more whole could emerge. I wish I knew how to do that. Sometimes I get lucky and it just happens. At those times, it feels more like magic than work, more divine than of earth. As always, thanks so much for stopping by. The pleasure is all mine.
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