A meeting...but more, a connecting

   1

Her toes were tickled

As she twirled and spun

Singing her song to awaken the trees

and guide the warmth of the moon’s kiss

to the deepest parts of things

 

In the distance, there were sharp sounds

Sounds of metal, death, crashing unconnected steps

 

And so she hung to the tips of the deepest underbrush

While the battle raged

 

Her muscles quivered

Beneath her gossamer gown

As she prepared to venture nearer the place

Where the crashing ended

 

   2

Eyes mostly closed

She saw the form at the base of her tree

As clear as if it were in midday sunshine

 

Mouth softly parted to taste

The air changes

She licked her lips in silent sorrow

At the iron ice of blood song

 

Nostrils flared, she sniffed, slow and deep

And olfactory filters

Sent the minute, lingering memory

Of a large form falling, dragging, crawling

 

Her feet caressed each dent he’d left

Following the path his body had carved

 

And every inch of fairy blood flowing

Beneath her glowing ivory skin sang a song of

Sorrow at the pain he wore

Like an aura shroud, covered every bit of all of him

 

This one, he was not like other humans.

This one, she might just fix,

If her powers allowed

 

        3

And his armor is as white as ghostly night gallows

gleaming

in moonlight madness

kissed and cracked, dented and viscously attacked

yet whole

 

his blood comes

from places unprotected

 

so she tiptoes

sends out her heart to search

hair to hear

and fingers to feed

upon his dreams

 

they fill her

touch her

sing songs so sweet the Seraphim

tremble

in sorrow and desperation for surcease.

 

Thus her only recourse

is breath.

 

She leans in

breaths in

 

and breaks while she breathes

a light leaving her lips

and entering his.

 

   4

till LIght fades and falls into

more light

and dew dances on lashes

 

his armor is aside

 

his pain is, for now, aside

 

he dreams

 

And there are words

Like sunset songs

There are oaths, promises

explanations

 

For barefoot faeries

titles and times, battles and barriers

are next to nothing

 

There is connection.

There is belief.

There is trust

 

One to another, trust where there has rarely been before.

And there is passion.

 

5

To the Fae

when these worlds touch

you touch back

for there is magic there

And so she did

 

And Aine sang

and midsummer melted into the worlds that gave wing to her feet

and she told him he was bound to her

and she was pledged to him

 

and he smiled.

So

she gave him her name

and she kissed him

and danced away on drew drops to the tops of

every tree

 

For him, for hope

The noise
of life can overwhelm me

Voices and
the slip of bills
from between my fingers
spent as soon as they are earned

stomping small feet
prancing a made up dance
and singing songs with no words
repeatedly
till siblings crumble in frustration
whining a screech "pleeease just stoooop!"

the tires are worn out
and the road makes them rumble hum
a warning as they reach for a way
to pull off and spin
to the sides of the road

it's too cold in the house...
I don't like that food...
the cat threw up at the top of the stairs, mom
so I can't brush my teeth!
Because that makes sense?

Life carries loss, pain, noise, needs
and sometimes
if you let it happen naturally
there is poetry
in connection

the soft skin prickled with a goatee beard
faded tattoos
and a muffled side spun giggle

have you seen it?  heard it?  felt it?
the hollow that digs so deep inside you
you cannot see light?

I have.

And for the first time in too long
I've found someone willing
to carry a torch into the dark

There is not a holding of breath here.
There is exhaling shared air

There are words that tumble
trickling easily, softly
a rumbling river tributary
caressing a secret, silent lake shore

A beginning
warm, secure,
wet and waiting
for whatever story
two hearts
decide to write in the stones and sand
at the river's edge.

long overdue update

It's been a while since I've posted.  I keep thinking about writing, and have actually written a couple entries just for myself.  We just passed the third Christmas and New Year's without John.  I have someone in my life that brings me comfort, giggles, a bit of passion, and a lot of help.  I feel that I pull into myself more now than I did before my loss. 

I remember talking with my therapist about how his death would affect me and my life, and how I talked with John about that too...and John was annoyed, saying that he wasn't an extra in my life story.  But my therapist said that he really kind of was...everyone is an extra in your life story.  That's how it goes.  So I was an extra in his life story.  And so on.

I know forward motion is good.  I know always remembering him is good.  I'm pretty close to happy.  And I'm still carrying my bad habits.  I want to start to take better care of myself, and feel like my small house is an excuse not to do so. 

I am crumbles of what I was, before and even with him.  Like candle wax that melted and was scraped up.  The uneven chunks have hair and fuzz and dirt stuck in them, and still smell beautiful.

I look for beauty wherever I can.  I seek out ways to be grateful.  I see it all and feel it deeply.  And still, I pull inward.  I know I am not alone in this centripetal spiral. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I spin on centripetal spirals
of self love and self loathing sliding
into cavernous cages
flanked by flames and a spell to stymie
screams, create a crust and crumble
the wax of your heart
till it spills across table tops and seeps into
wood floors

With a plastic, rectangular white scraper
your hands attempt to reclaim the seepage
rubbing against the grain
till the smooth hot viscous mass, softens, solidifies and, in scraping,
becomes crumbles
crusted with bits of cat hair, tinsel, dust...
a pile of uneven bits of malleable chemical compound
scented and brightly colored
now trash

unless

fingers firm and fearful
pick out the biggest bits

perhaps you can place the pieces
in a new container
without a wick
it still melts and sends the sent spinning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to hope for my future.  I want to lose weight as I am very near morbid obesity.  I want to believe in life.  I know I believe in love, community, gratitude.  I wish these were enough.  But I'm still so closed off.  I pull inward.  I don't know what to do with my conflicting desires to care for myself and to continue existing in a moderately unhealthy manner.  I'm not sharing this on facebook.  This one isn't for the general public.  I don't think I have any widow readers, but if I do, it's for you.  And if you are there, and have thoughts, but not advice, I'd be happy to hear them.  I'm SO much better than I was.  The pain is so much duller...it's become sadness.  But oh, it is still my constant companion.  I promise not to give up.  But this is much bigger than anything else I have ever done.  And so that won't look like other "not giving up" things I've done.  There will be backslides and forward leaps and side steps galore.  I promise to not push until I'm ready, but to keep reaching and trying.  I can do that.  I promise also to try not to think of my back slides as ways I try to hurt myself.  Even if they are.  Because I don't like to think that way.  I hope to find a way to a place in myself where even my subconscious doesn't like to think that way.

May we be well, may we be happy, may we be at peace.

wishes washed in memory

The hours bend around you

Curling like a snake to pull your blood deeper into your bones

Until it touches a secret dark red

Filling your sight

And the golden shines liquid

 leveling a cool shade of pale

Tipping into you

Till the burning settles flames into coals

Coals

And simmering water

Traditions built on bones

And burnt bodies

A fire feasting on flesh

Leaving echoes

Repetitive

Circuitous

Motions and moves in a dance

The dance of life, death

The heart

Beats slower…the raining building to a

running ravenous river

Has flowed itself out

To a minor trickle

The languid liquid line

That never

Leaves

But tells tales

Tell ME tales

about how the dead holds me still

But not as tight

How I am accepting that I will never be held

That way again. It is really ok.  I’ve felt it.  I’ve tasted it…been there

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it again

Of course I do

But it’s not there

It’s a ghost

And some don’t ever get to even see the ghost

Let alone feel it

Taste it

Touch it

Become one with it

Flesh and bone

heart

words

soul

hope

future

fear

quiet and screams

All together

Tasted in a sour soup of

sweet tangy

passion

Happy birthday, Neil

The Bane of My Existence And My Smile In Living Form

Saying the

SAME

Word over and over

And over

And again

Bringing me water “Betuz I want you to be healfy”

You need a password to get through, which I have to support

Because the password is

“Please may can I go through?”

Choosing to use his birthday money to buy everyone something

So

Many

Crumbs…everywhere

Helping to sweep

Throwing the trash into the can

Leaving splatters on the wall

The laugh that giggles to the ends of time

Peeing the bed

Pulling the siblings together with hugs and “I wuv you. You da bess sisser ever”

The screaming, oh the screaming

The small arms that hold me, the tiny chest where I place my head for gentle pats

“The only ting I member when I was baby, is you.  The only ting I don’t member, is Daddy”

We all love you, the brother, the sister, the spirit father, but you

You, my dear, are mine.