River of Tears

Virginia Woolf’s death, March 28, 1941

Another year to search though those feelings.....

Darkness falls as I wander into the library in search of her diary.  I reach for the light switch, but change my mind.  I know where the book is, I have her in the bookcase, top shelf, on the left.

My hand skims the edges of the bindings; it touches the one I want.  I know this the moment I let out a cry.  My finger tips sting, and a vibration is sent up my arm.  My chest constricts, and my heart starts to pound.

The tears begin.  One by one, the feelings start anew.  I step back for a second, blinded now; I shut my eyes and quickly grasp hold of the book. 

The tears flow

No, not tears, a river 

Tears know

Tight, I hold tight to this book in my hands; I cannot drop this book, her last words would fall.  I would fall.  It feels as though her words are searing my skin, but the tighter I hold onto them, the tighter I feel the constriction clenching the beat in my chest.  My heart stops, skips a beat, and then moves on to a familiar tempo again.

Down to the river

Faster and faster

Flowing near

An overwhelming flood of anguish invades my unsuspecting soul.  No words can capture this feeling, never, no, never!  But I try.

Sobbing, and gasping for breath, it is useless.... I no longer can hold onto this book.  I cannot, I simply cannot!

 My hands and heart burn, until I push her away

I let the book fall to my bed

Turning my back to this pain, I walk the other way 

     I hear the bombs in the distance, or is it the thunder in the sky?  Or is it the roar of the river of tears invading my mind?  There is no escaping this death that I feel around me, just holding her words, the words that scald my hands.

Again, another year

Her death comes near

My greatest fear

Why, tell me why, why do I feel this sorrow?

How, tell me how, how can I live another year

Or even ‘til the morrow?

The Scent of Spring

Is it the wild meadow grass after a rain

Is it the sun’s warming light, or melting snow

 Or stark terrain

Is it February longing to sing

Buds waiting to open

Birds on the wing

Flowers and rain, or warm air lifting

Or softness of night

A natures gifting

Maybe a hum to a prairie’s reverie

A breeze on a sail

A nest in a tree

An awakening step across the lawn

A nudge to a leaf

And then Earth yawned

Earth did say, “I smell spring in the air”.

I wondered if this was just a crazy wild hair

I lifted my chin, closed my eyes and took a whiff

I’m not sure what I smelled, with that little old sniff

So, I took a deep breath, inhaled through my nose

But started to sneeze, and the smell curled my toes

Was this Spring I did smell?

I just couldn’t tell

Or was it the neighbor’s cow

Pooping at the plow

Hold My Hand

     I see you in the morning, with your tired eyes trying to hide what is necessary to shield me from you.  I see you struggle through the day, the step in your walk, the slowing down, the halting pace, the shuffle, and the little stumble as you fall against me.

I loved you once

I will love you again

And again

     Life doesn’t announce the next step, it doesn’t announce a warning, it doesn’t predict, it doesn’t solicit, it’s simply there, and there alone we pick the pace, the step, the forward motion that leads us to a hand, a hand that holds the promise of keeping us safe, keeping us secure in a love that has no conditions, no boundaries, no expectations.

We hold a hand and simply know

I will love you

Always

In The Shadow

Photograph by Kathleen Sara Shattuck

The shadow stretched the length of the room, in reply to my voice.

No matter what I do, no matter where I am, no matter who I am, I think of you when I write my words...there is no answer to my question, why, there never has been, and there never will be.  A hidden place that stays away, away from prying eyes, and only you and I can see that place, but, only you can release me from my self.

I search for landscapes, true revelations of verdant green within the barrenness of desert rock, showing me the clear, coolness at water’s edge, waiting for me to sip of streams that may never exist.

I tremble in the wake of dawn, and exhale in the evening breeze.  I nod to the day's awakening spirit, the day of reckoning, the day of possibilities that I may see into your soul.

The dark shadow twisted and turned.  A yawn engulfs the corners of the room, satiated by stillness; it moves closer, to be seen in a glimmer, and then a quiet hush exudes a knowing confidence.

 

Away from the lies that were concealed

Listen and hear the harsh realties

Now soon to be truths revealed

life’s destined casualties

Winter Dreams

 

Close your eyes my nightingale

Visions in sleep will soon entail

Solstice scenes

Within your dreams

Close your eyes to landscapes untold

Hold them near as they unfold

By the fire on cold winter nights

Wishing dreams of beautiful sights

A crackling fire sings of past glories

Floating, drifting, to lullaby stories

Soft and warm, and near to my heart

You lie beside me, and feel the spark

Encircled, entangled, in ecstasy

Our bodies glow in the firelight

Smoldering, burning, tumultuously

Our hearts catch on fire, as the blanket on the floor

Grab the fire extinguisher

my love

and head for the door!

Wilderness

How many times do I touch the side of my pillow, and expect you to be there? 

How many times do I open the door, and wait to see your face looking back?

How many times do I search for my shoes, and try to hear your footsteps?

How many times do I look in the mirror, and want you to wipe away my tears?

How many times do I walk through the house, and listen for your voice to call?  

“Over here”.

I walk through the streets

when darkness falls

I had lost what was mine

then darkness calls

Before I Loved You

With the turn of the hands of time and the twist of fate, I loved you

How in the world did this happen, when yesterday I was fine

I was fine, yes I was fine

I had nothing to bombard my mind with worry or distrust

I had nothing to tear at the seams of fabric I call my life 

Each day was the same

 

Each day I got through the maze of worries that were the same

I knew there would be a construction of hope and accomplishment

I knew what to expect

I knew this without worry or sadness, without pain deep inside 

I knew life was a monotone, a constant 

I knew, yes I knew, but it was mine

Little Mouse At Play

Across the hallway a Little Mouse crept

Not making a sound as the other mice slept

She was light on her feet, with toes soft and smooth

But no one knew she secretly wore shoes

Little Mouse knew to make no noise at all

Or she would end up like her sisters down the hall

This room was a scary place, there were no doubts

As was heard from voices, discharging loud shouts

Little Mouse weaved her way between boxes of junk

Never knowing what darkness might bring a Ker plunk

She knew of a wheel, which lay in the distance

A wheel she could tread, with resolved persistence

It was fun on this wheel that went round and round

Going nowhere it seemed, and making no sound

But Little Mouse’s days for sure would be numbered

If she fell off or stumbled, or somehow blundered

So Little Mouse made no mistake, not to be seen

Caution was her forte, ears up and keen

In her nights of play and days in sleep

As Rats scurried 'round, she made not a peep

Her secret was safe, to no one in particular

Just knowing she had shoes

She could play on something circular

Mysteries of The Mind

My last blog post, Dreamscape, was actually written in split second spurts, as I went in and out of sleep at the computer.

At my computer, my hands fit the keyboard

Writing words down, I’m literally floored

I sometimes fall asleep!  Yes, that happens to me

Of course, more of us do this while watching TV

Falling in and out of my wayward thoughts

With no apparent reason, lost to these spots

Putting two and two together, plus two more

Where does that leave me, except on the floor?

You pick yourself up, one leg at a time

Upon looking down, guess you are fine

The bane of falling down, is in my existence

But getting up, is forward persistence

The more I write, the more the need to explain

If this is my life, I’m in for some pain

Just lucky, I guess, as my hands crave to type

I wrote all of this down, not wanting a fight!

All in due time, my minds in a dreamscape

Not a word goes by, none will escape

But, through this process, you lie beneath

We call it flow, the spark, an urge we’re bequeathed

My zone of creation, in which I must find

Whatever these thoughts, that comes to mind

In creating a verse

There’s no time to rehearse

I dreamed a dream that you were there

Why do I want you, why do I care?

You held my hand and then you were gone

I throw these grace notes far and long

Deep within a cave I woke a phantom dream

A mystery, a mystery, locked inside of me

And try though I may, to explain this feeling

I sink even further, into relentless reeling

Do I know what this means, I’ve analyzed to death

I call words my own, and gasp for breath

Come now, again, my love, my song

So I can take you, as though nothing is wrong

An artist, I am, who has fallen into sleep

Unexplainable, unfathomable, but mine to keep

Dreamscape

Photograph by Kathleen Sara Shattuck

“Go back to the shore,” the voice said to me.

I don’t know how!  I screamed. I don’t know where that is!

Tears welled behind my closed eyes; to have them open would cause a stream to run; a torrent, a river.

“Go back to the shore,” the voice echoed.

I’m trying, I said, but I’m lost, abandoned in a dream; no sail, no rudder.

I can smell the salt in the air 

I can feel the breeze in my hair 

I hear, “Come closer, you are near”

 

Talk to me! Tell me how to find you.

“Step out; don’t be afraid, I’m here to catch you if you fall.”

The voice is in my head

But I’m falling instead

I’m sinking, and the eye socket can no longer hold the eye.  Locked in the closet I look at my watch.  It is time, coming here soon her chin sticks out, and recedes, the money is gone.  The celebs, how do you know this?

What does this mean?

 

“The micro chip stands for eighteen.”

I ask again and again, what does this mean?

I have denied her so many of the credits.

Deeper and deeper I wade into the watery dreamscape.

The End, the end, the end....

   My Last Thoughts On Virginia Woolf

  I sit by my window, and my hand trembles as I attempt to write in my journal; my last journal page, but I cannot help but look out of this window and see the colors of the evening sky, the orange and gold mixed with blue, soon to be covered with a gauze of blackened hue. 

     Shades will be drawn across this scene, and bombs will be dropped, and burst, filtering a dim light through this darkness, but for now my beautiful fields are there before me.  The grass blades wave to and fro; moods are contemplative, complicated and complete, a moment in time within, and without, searching the sun, the moon, the sky, and the seas, all faces of humankind; found, lost, searching for love, though I have ridiculed, articulating my rule.

     My demise, I see in my own eyes.  I see reflections on this old shiny surface.  I see into the whys and the wherefores.  I see into the words of friends and foes alike; the works of a million years, to be criticized, and delved, and probed, and shelved.  My own worst enemy I see now.

 

     I think about my life, as it was then, as it is now; I feel the ages of time through these tremors of mine, through these headaches and pains, and my age is a haunting reminder, all inclusive years both wanted, wanting, and unwanted, bombing me with nerves that halt and spin my mind; time spent with voices that reached out to me, yet holding me down in recline, in darkness, in moods and depths not even the written word can describe.  What does it mean, to be ill?  Can anyone explain these feelings? The shades are drawn; darkness falls, as night must, it is happening.....Dawn ascends...

     Damn you!  Leave me, oh life, oh leave me!  You are cumbersome, you are inhibiting, you are prohibiting forward motion, damn you!  I have loved you, I have hated you.  Night and Day, my worst critic, leave me!

I Believed

Do you see the flag quiver in the breeze, next to the pole; do you see the frayed threads gently brushing along its side? 

I wait

I watch

I anticipate

I peek between the curtains of my window. I see nothing that would alarm me, no branches bending, no fronds careening across the street, no tumbleweeds caught beneath the undercarriage of a car.  I stand and watch the flag move up and down, back and forth, assuming my world was secure, nothing to worry me. I was out of harm's way.

Yes, I wanted to believe, but then

I was taken by surprise, again 

A leaf flutters to the ground, and then rises up, higher and higher, it is a sense of what may come; it’s taken away, this leaf, and calm changes to chaos; the earth begins to vibrate, and a long, slow rumbling descends from the sky. 

I’m vigilant, but more than surprised

How fast you intensified

The air and rain batter my window pane with unseen force, attempting to drive my world apart and did I not tell you, never come back, you hold my pose, you mock me with the wave of a flag.

Haunting

Taunting

I cannot stand here and watch, but I cannot walk or run away for fear of being hurled, taking me again and again, away from my world.

You deceived me

I believed in you

Am I never to be free

Charmed

A luxurious overture, a song, a tune, you enthrall me with heat

A breeze

 An undertone

 Covered by music’s beat

You take my breath, you horde, in my nakedness you steal

Fake

 False

Never once real

I leaned into you, strong, pounding pulses you hurled my way

Exasperated horned voices, I heard in dismay

You unpredictable wind of the night insane

Exit my life the way you came!

I plummet

I fall

I fell

 I flew

Calling your name

 Conundrum

 Puzzler

Poser

It’s all just a game

Winds of Rage

It’s a cold wind blowing today

Plunge soaring wings into gravity’s eye

You remind me of the wind

Gales propel a howling voice

Everything groans

Droning gusts of force let fly

I need silence

Lashing, turning, twisting

The wind is howling brute force

Humble resistance failing

I hate the unpredictable wind

Felling the strong

I wish it would stop

A tremulous hush settles, look around

I need solitude

Trees, lines and limbs at a standstill 

Nature, the evocative you

Silence falls to the ground

Formidable

Aged rough hewed; a window is barred with wire in which only the smallest of living things can enter, and hung beside is a circle, a loop of sharp studded metal.  A painful reminder curves its way around weather torn wood.

Against it steals

hidden endless lengths

 unrevealed

The barren land shelters near

a growth of straw colored weeds

a friend and companion to fear

Run

Clouds lowered themselves across the plaines, rolling in a gray and foreboding mass – sultry, salt laden wet droplets wanting to seize the living, the breathing creatures that inhabit a domain called earth.

Take heed and listen

run, run, run away

The fog tumbled

The earth trembled

Run, run, run away

escape from this prison

Wetness oozed its way through and over the silk strands of time, encompassing a dusty film with a coating of mud, taking; sucking life without care.

Before you are locked in

run, run, run away

The mortals ran

The mud stuck

Run, run, run away

away from forbidden sin

Dense and thick, layer upon layer, the fog folded itself upon the fruit. 

Don’t ask me how

just run, run, run  

run away now

Rest (Haiku)

flowers rest your head

nurturing smiling faces

fall prepares your bed

Time (Haiku)

 Wisdom born of age

Pages of parchment here lies

Turn the leaves of time

Remember

A slight breeze touched the side of the curtain

she backed away into shadow

Remembering

he passed this way

A long while ago

A letter held in his weathered hand

she watched  from the window and yearned

Days came

they went

he never returned

Gone

turning my insides out

I need to write

rust splashes

paint peels

chain hangs suspended

nothing in sight

no crossing

beware

CLOSED

but then:

Please CALL AGAIN