The sun was shinning where before it had been raining. The black streets looked in reflection like they were smiling, the trees as if they had been crying, shivering as a gentle wind tried to console. I sat alone in the cafe as I always did. My choice. A token of integrity I told myself since no one who ever sat with me understood and I no longer had the energy to pretend that we spoke the same language. Yes, it was just one night, but it was how they said it, one night, as if in the saying they could slap or shame me into their reality. I felt like Mary, like Joseph had just offered the idea of another child to replace the one I'd lost, maybe adopt if divine intervention looked the other way. My God that's how it felt. As if one thousand nights or ten thousand nights could plumb the depth of love deeper. But it didn't. I saw their fate, the facades, living made-to-order lives, timeline like a train, railed, rutted. I saw the token kisses and the perfunctory hugs, two branches of a tree grown apart; and I saw the effort to keep appearances where the only thing that was real came at the bottom of a bottle. So, I sat alone. Drank my coffee. And I remembered what it was like to live, even for just one night, without fetters.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
1944 (without fetters)
The sun was shinning where before it had been raining. The black streets looked in reflection like they were smiling, the trees as if they had been crying, shivering as a gentle wind tried to console. I sat alone in the cafe as I always did. My choice. A token of integrity I told myself since no one who ever sat with me understood and I no longer had the energy to pretend that we spoke the same language. Yes, it was just one night, but it was how they said it, one night, as if in the saying they could slap or shame me into their reality. I felt like Mary, like Joseph had just offered the idea of another child to replace the one I'd lost, maybe adopt if divine intervention looked the other way. My God that's how it felt. As if one thousand nights or ten thousand nights could plumb the depth of love deeper. But it didn't. I saw their fate, the facades, living made-to-order lives, timeline like a train, railed, rutted. I saw the token kisses and the perfunctory hugs, two branches of a tree grown apart; and I saw the effort to keep appearances where the only thing that was real came at the bottom of a bottle. So, I sat alone. Drank my coffee. And I remembered what it was like to live, even for just one night, without fetters.
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12 comments:
What a powerful picture you have painted. "The trees as if they had been crying." Beautiful.
Thanks Athena. Always a pleasure having you stop by.
"A token of integrity I told myself since no one who ever sat with me understood and I no longer had the energy to pretend that we spoke the same language." This is hauntingly stark and beautiful. No one knows you and you've reached "I can't fix it". A reminder to myself to resist being slapped or shamed into someone elses reality. Thank you for this. It has hit home today. The feathered battle helmet is gorgeous, as well.
Lime, what a wonderful comment and compliment. I'm sure the home dudes see you as the hub of their wheel, the axis of integrity Dave counts on. :-)
You're awfully good with your words! Thank you. I expect what you say is true. Clink - I'm off for some hours on the table!
Enjoy the table. I'll be there on Saturday.
Clink!
Ever smudge with sweetgrass? It's been years, to be sure, but the sweet clings even though it is supposed to purify. That's what your pieces do. They cling. They purify.
And they rattle my farkin brain awake to new language and that is never a bad thing. Thank you.
erin
Erin, I feel the same way with your postings. I love the way you write, express such that I want to reach out and touch, hold, fondle, nestle, suckle each and every word, every phrase like they were blue olives in my martini. :-D
Thank you for the very kind words. You make me smile. :-)
And I remembered what it was like to live, even for just one night, without fetters.
Something inside me has just been taken to its knees...
S., I'd like to hold that something in my hands, held together as a bowl, lit in the warm light of a candle, witness to star and moon between the solid cherry frame of my poster bed.
Your first sentence is a lesson to every wannabe writer, so was the thought that accompanied the ear to ear smile that spread upon closing, the knowing and talent, the insight and skill that recognizes 'plain language can be at least as effective as poetic language when it comes to creative writing. A persuasive setting of ambience within these first few words, the freshness and colours of scene cast. The divine illustrations that follow carrying all the more clout for this beginning, streets that look as if they were smiling, trees crying and shivering as the wind gently consoles, this is much too beautiful for words, tear-inducingly lovely, I feel like calligraphing these words in echoed, shadowing, colours across my barest wall, to have them bold and clear and in view so that I might be reminded of the beauty of language, the beauty that can be created with language. Just lovely. The description of her decision as a token of integrity has the intensity of precision, of candor, of the lived and the learned, it is not only what is said but the manner in which it is said that holds such conviction, reflecting like a speculum pieces of our souls, a recognition of our ultimate aloneness, and one need not go quite that far for in the part that refers to Mary so incredibly well conveyed is the rarity of finding another who understands, or even those who are willing to try or refrain from judging. Absolutely delightful is As if one thousand nights or ten thousand nights could plumb the depth of love deeper., which along with expressing those feelings of others not being able to understand why she should still feel so strongly so many years later, she also in this observation defines the nature of love, that though relationship can deepen and memories can accumulate, one cannot measure the depth of feeling between two people in days and years, in time. Astoundingly excellent piece of writing!
Though a room may be dark a thousand years, when the light comes on, it is as lit as the room that was never dark. That's my moment of zen. :-D
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