Stones and sticks (The Sunday Muse #248)

 

Stones, and sticks gathered along the banks of the river in the fading hope of filling a void in not only my life, but my heart. I find a simple peace in each treasure, each broken piece of a larger earth. The river here runs clear, offering a glaring contrast to my mudded mind and dampened spirit. Yet it's at the water's edge that find the greatest voice within me, it's as if the recharging here is amplified by the waters colliding with rock as it races to the sea. It is here that I see what was hidden in the mad dash to find clarity in my life, to embrace the possibilities of finally being home in a place my hats hang and that has only known heartache.

I give quickly and completely in matters of my heart, even though at each ending of love I swear I will never walk those crooked paths again. I mortar up the aged stones and sticks, cobbling together my wall of defense, praying for the rest of my life to be quiet, confirmed in the single idea of singleness. I am a complete and utter failure at this. Perhaps, an addict of the rush of new love, I reluctantly step past the walls, pushing aside the flags of red blowing in the new wind of new love and hug the beings that will rip my heart apart in time. A fool? For sure.

This time, as it's been in each of the past's time, is different, its organic, fresh, familiar and its rush, feels like I’m already standing at the river's edge. Soothing and soft like today’s falling snow,

this one, this is the one. This one is solid, without doubt, no flags, no greed nor games, this one. Feeling as if I am about to lift off this ground, into a new permanent orbit, no longer needing the water to show me the direction I shall drift, the fuse is lit. It’s as if the pasts puzzle pieces, jumbled and jaded smoothly assemble in my mind, pleasing, perfect in its unknown, and I find myself, casting aside the collected stones, and sticks.   

BOTH SIDES NOW-The Lost Lyrics

 This is my added lyrics to Joni Mitchell's song, "BOTH SIDES NOW"

Stray emotions, tumble down

becoming one, with the frozen ground

still I pray, our souls be bound

intertwined forever more....

And yes my heart, longs for you

it cries out, when you, are blue

and suffers waiting, wondering who

will take my breath away....

and even though, we’ve yet met

never kissed, our sun's not set

with all the life, we still get

I want, to know your, face....

Longing to be belong again

moving past, just being friends

knowing that before life ends

I’ll find your, perfect heart....

for everything has its place

there’s a winner, in every race

so even though, I’ve not seen your face

your love is all I need.......

someday we will find, loves door

tasting lust, and wanting more

releasing doubt upon, this floor

when our hearts give us away.....

until then, I must say

I seek you out, in every way

longing for that, happy day

when our hearts will beat as one.

I held your heart in my mind, and

kissed your face a thousand times,

but still, somehow a strangers fate

is what we, seem to wait..

but wait I will, hold no doubt,

hear me listen, feel me shout

and on that day, that we find

love has really, been on time.

 

View from a tree Sunday Muse #247

 

I remember that first day when I felt the sunlight on my leaves, as a seedling, everything was brand new and exciting. As I looked around, taking in so many things, I remember seeing my closet neighbors and wondering what their lives had been like. Wondering what lies ahead for me. My first spring was here, and the flowers grew and bloomed all around me, the bees, so busy and always in such a hurry. I remember the magic of birds singing and of that first butterfly that landed on me. My smile was as big as I can remember, and my world was perfect.  Then summer came and it was so hot, and I didn’t know how anyone could make it in such harsh heat, and at times my thirst was overwhelming, but my neighbors provided me with some shade.  I think it saved my life and then came autumn. I watched as their leaves began to drop off, some landing near and on me. I wondered why. Had the heat been too much, after all we were now in a much cooler time. Then I watched as my own leaves began to die and I did not know what was happening. Soon the snow started falling, it was so beautiful, watching those flakes landing, their journey between the branches above me. And then, it got so cold and the wind, pushing my branches in all directions, it was too much for me, so I closed my eyes and went to sleep hoping that I would feel the warmth of the sun again soon. This repeated for 120 cycles.

 

Now I am the tallest tree in this small forest, and I’ve learned those neighbors were my family and that one, now long gone was my mother. I have many children near my roots, but sadly, they will never grow strong there. It’s the seeds that get further from me that have the best chance to grow tall. Over the years I’ve learned how to let any of my branches snap off to allow those below me to grow tall and strong although my aim is sometimes off. An acorn that fell from me 75 years ago and washed about 50’ from me and is now my closet friend. We spend our days telling the other what the other cannot see. Deer and mountain lion roam here, although usually at different times of the day, as well as everything from skunks, squirrels and an occasional human. The scariest moment was when a forest fire came about 42 cycles ago. Humans started it and other humans stopped it as it rapidly advanced up the hill, but not before countless others died from the heat and flames.

 

Over the cycles I watched a cabin built from a distant cousin of mine rise up in the meadow, and farmers workied the soil. I saw the cabin grow in size and a new family move in, I heard them laugh and cry for most of my life until they moved away. It was sad at first, spending so many summers with their children exploring my branches, telling tales of pirates and love, but I am content listening to the birds and squirrels, seemingly playing in my branches. When spring came, I awoke to loud crashing sound like I’ve never heard before, it was not like the thunder that visits in the winter, this was not pleasant. It was a machine crushing the cabin. I was saddened that the family would now, never return. Then came more machines, loud and pushing smoke like the fire into the air, they cut deep into the earth and made roads and soon bigger houses appeared, perhaps built from my families backs. Soon the houses had new families, with children running and screaming, not like the old family. But none came to climb in my branches. When summer returned so did the machines, they cut into the bark of my remaining family, killing them, I watched as they fell to the very ground that they grew from. When they took away my 75-year-old friend, sap began to ooze from me. I braced myself to be taken to, but they stopped. Soon mud from a machine put a rock like substance on the ground and a new house was built. It stood about 40’ from me. Now I am surrounded by a wooden fence where the nicest children play in my branches. I know that at best, this may last another 50 or so cycles, so, for now I am no longer alone but I still long for my forest family.  

 

 

Forever Sunday Muse #245

 

 

Like butter hitting the hot surface of the breakfast frying pan, my heart feels the warmth and hears all too well that sizzle of a changing temperature, and I know, that unlike this box of `expired Bisquick my lumps and age could still offer value to someone hungry for a meal of commitment. Larger portions now fill that imaginary plate, the offerings still richly seasoned with wisdom from the overcooked relationships of that now spoiled past. My mind drifts again and I slip back in time to when I was her main course.

I once adored her structured randomness and the situations we’d find ourselves in. Stary eyed, each promising this was forever. Laughing at time, at convention and at the obvious lack of a plan that would one day, end this beautiful banquet. Her words had always implied perfection, painting a picture long held dear to my mind and heart. They fed me, though never enough for the malnutrition that raged inside and her abuse grew rapidly. When I finally left, the note I left simply said “It was forever baby, until it wasn’t”.

Kindness in shoes unowned

 

My words seek asylum from the prison inside my heart, long held hostage in her hostile takeover. The collateral damage dripping from the walls of my life, for I was far too late in my raising of them, and now all I can do, is wash them, waiting for either death or my escape. When she returns, her words, like a sharp knife plunge deeply, carving me with considerable precision, each verb, trained to torment, each adjective aimed to kill. She is a master of changing the shape of my will, at will. The world knows not where I am nor if I breath at all. She was so sweet as she explained how each friend, brothers and sisters didn’t know my worth, her placement of the wedges I willingly drove sent them all away, and now, I see so clearly.

It was about a month ago when she didn’t return, the house cold and dark was silent and the eyes to my frozen soul opened reluctantly as I rose, yet never awake. A few days went past, and I grew braver, I dared to look out the darkened windows and saw the sun shining brightly just beyond where I was allowed to be. After a week, I opened the door and covered my eyes from the brilliant sky, the warmth caressing my face and arms, and I stepped out. I left the door ajar in case she was testing me again, but she did not appear. So, I took a step, and another, almost falling over from the giddiness of impending freedoms, another step, then another………..

It's been a while since I've been comfortable being out in public, mostly from the fear she will find me again. Slowly through my sisters love and help I've been learning about the poison I had drank, not in a liquid form, but from her hideous doses of verbiage. Today as bask in the sunlight, her words have begun to lose their grip and I understand once again of the power of language, much like every word of this unlived tall tale. But there are many that have lived such injustice and I am learning of their pain, hoping somehow, to help them find themselves again.  May they find peace.