Insistent the old man woke me, night upon night he shook me from dreams leaving dark taste in my mouth. He was death yet alive, power roared within him, fear closed my ears to him and my eyes could not see him. Yet last night his voice reached me, stirred me from fear, his face, not death but potent life. Like kindly father he offered rough hand, hand in hand with ancient Ash, I walked into the night. All earthly sound retreated as we walked, the stars lighting a path beneath feet. His words echoed through my being, lyrical cadence calling me to path, a song of memory to light my way. He spoke to my blood least I forget and in final speech he uttered; ‘Not alone my girl’ as he leveled his eye upon mine and laid kiss on my brow. A single sound approached, beneath his words, through my thoughts, he smiled when he saw I heard it; pounding like drum, yet too quiet for human ear, pulse of thunder compressed within form. My eyes widened as recognition arrived, words tumbling forth from mind, ‘his beating heart’, my wise father did smile returning me to dream, awoken.
Sleep escaped me. Exhausted I sought her with desperation yet she fled me amused. Words that had been pent up, bound by circumstance, eager for freedom burst forth laughing, cohering with sleep, defying my ability to close my mind. Do not expect a miracle I am all out of those as I reach beyond for a beauty sensed but misplaced, lucid at the edge of the dream world, asleep within the real. I reach for hope in her glorious flight, yet find faith, strangest of creatures to taste today. Deep within me an infant galaxy stirs misplacing time as I walk resurrected holding hands with courage we talk of distant suns and a past remade. As finally my eyes close they are kissed awake by loving sun and I pass into dreaming my life.
Gratitude as a way to walk with others
Beneath the heavy weight of life I learn to swim, I feel the changing tides of sentiment and dance with them. I hear the beloved in every word and speak only of truth and gratitude. Harsh realities soften in waters well tamed, words heard slower so the real is touched not ego. Change is easier submerged in the waters of life; remember the heartbeat that called you into being, the sounds of the world smoothed by the body of the mother who bore you. Fallen we forget and taste bitterness. Fallen we loose sight of the beauty we knew before we were, before we were not. Fall into the deep embrace of the beloved see into the reflection, not Narcissi but the true.
At times, when I stop listening I hear them. If I listen forcefully I hear only harsh critic. If I quiet myself the whisper becomes clearer, almost song. Noise crowds them out with hate and malice. I know they are there the dark ones that draw me from myself, and the beautiful that invite me into myself. My soul a metronome, rhythmically tuning between the poles; between the lost and found; between the ache of love and the sting of loneliness; between the nonsensical and the sublime; between faith and fear. Paradoxes all. As the light and the dark, neither one without the other in this strange haunting land. Yet I hear them, the distant stars, the grains of sand; they sing of each breath as a chance to taste heaven within this world.
Words by Errant Satiety image by David Morrow