Shudder, Little Crow

“Shudder, Little Crow, you think that you know me but you don’t.
If you want to hold me you have to let me in.
There’s no place within my heart for maybe.
There’s no time in my life for perhaps, or we’ll see.”

“I’ll be waiting-” those are words she never said.
“Waiting is a game that I dare not play,
my heart is tired of shadows and dimly lit rooms…
Be the shadow within my heart and I’ll walk away from you.”

There’s nothing left but the pitter patter of rain against the roof.
He’s lost without you… Lost.
His life is black and white, monotone without reality or routine.

“I’m a bird upon the sea, I’ll stretch my wings and fly, your net cannot catch me.
I am the wild, I am the bear, the otter, the eagle proud, strong, un-shy.
I’ll not be weak with you, those eyes that wish to speak.”

“Wiliest I shudder at your touch?
You will not have my heart.
Because you will not give yours to me.”

The pinning of the crow as he circles a star fallen from some place far and out of reach.

Be like the water tumbling upon stone, ever moving.
Cup your hands and watch the mirror slide between your lips.
There’s nothing there but damp palms and tears unshed.
Long to wallow, long to wander among flowerbeds.
The wind a whisper, “just a whisper” so she said.

She is the silent mist upon the shore, let her go, let her go.
The world is turned and thoughts of her no more…
“Never more” cried the raven in the night.
“Never more”, as she vanished from his sight.

“What a world… Be it but a dream upon the horizon lost in sod and smoke.
The horizon tainted by the eclipse and the sea, oh that horizon that weeps with widows tears. Yes, the horizon… that is where I shall be.”

A fallen star, a fallen star, away, away, away. Let it be.

 

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The Seeker’s Tale

The Seeker’s Tale

First born, a creative mind that constantly explored worlds beyond what the eyes could see. Magician, adventurer, knight, thief, explorer, space-pirate, Jedi. With each passing word the mind dug deeper, dove through page upon page, upon page. Leather bound secrets with gold leaf print, inks that ran into and over each other in their haste to be devoured, nothing was too great for this keen mind and when the lights grew dim and the night long, torches were brought forth- for there were no rules that would keep those pages from turning…

The days rolled on, years passed in the way they often do, responsibilities building ever taller, time never slowing… Was the world passing him by as he sat and read? Would people forget him? In their haste to move from one moment to the next… It mattered little, the thirst for something, some place far, far away was greater than any scheduled meet or family what-how.
It wasn’t for a lack of love, or caring, it was for a greater drive, a more important need, not in a selfish way but a self-sustaining means to survival.
This world was cruel in its ideals, in its matter of fact know-how. So few understood what it was like here on this side of the rail, here where things were… different.

Everyone has their story and this young mind had his, he would strive to better the world somehow, in some way that only he had seen, like a firefly in the night he’d spark and dive saving those who didn’t know they needed saving and finding a place, that place that only he had seen.

Oh what a wonder this human life was! So strange and complex, yet thrilling, terrifying and filled with oddities, what a journey!
He often sat and dreamt, looking out that wayward window wandering in thought that drifted around and around, until the time clicked and off like a rabbit he fled on and into his next great adventure.

Pages turned less, but not with less enthusiasm just less. The world seemed somewhat a brighter place and now in adulthood there were other adventures that must be endured, explored, savoured?

So much and yet so little time. Standing still now and overlooking the deep rolling hills, mountainscapes that held out their arms and embraced his curious mind, yes, so much adventure just waiting to be had. “Glorious, indeed this is glorious”, he thought aloud as he strode on and into life.

 

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My Body Is My Own

“It’s been two years and a bit since I walked away from you and today I found out some things that have left me feeling shaken, sad and very truly violated.

 In December 2012 two strangers tried to contact me and warn me about you, about your activities that involved them and others.

That was eight months into our relationship- you were already living with me. 

Now years later I am thankful that I ended with you, I am thankful that we never had kids, I’m thankful that somehow your promiscuity, your reckless behaviour did not land on me, somehow by the grace of whomever/whatever I was and am ok. 

For eight months (and possibly the duration of our relationship) by giving consent to others over your body you gave away my rights to mine. You violated my trust and endangered my health. 

-This is not a hate letter. 

My chest aches with the pain that you have caused. I know that you were broken, I know that you were hurting. That did not give you the right to behave the way that you did – we all have past stories, we all carry wounded hearts…

Now so many years later I’ve been unsuccessful in contacting those two whom tried to warn me. Perhaps somehow they’ll know that I am grateful and that I thank them for being responsible, for caring enough to reach out. 
I am not always the praying type, but today I pray that you have stopped being so reckless, I pray that you have received enough lessons in life to grow up and be responsible. 

I want you to know that you hurt me. You broke that trust, everything I gave to you, all those moments… How many were lies?

Selfish behaviours by a struggling soul that walked in shadows, afraid of the light. But the light always comes, eventually, to shine upon the truth. And the truth- it bites.

 I am no longer the fool who tried to save the trickster from his own traps. 

Today I am the Knight and I bring the sun, shadows beware, I stand strong.”

“My body is my own, do not invite others into it without asking me first- this is a violation of consent. This is not ok. You have just taken away my rights to my own body. “

That is the truth there, don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Not ever. 


–on discovering infidelity and how my past partner was engaging in unsafe sexual play within the first eight months of our exclusive relationship, lies and how to stand up again when one’s been knocked down. 

Combatant Of The Night

I trudge forward now, dropping pen and ink. Left to float are pages of thoughts and sorrows to drift and dwindle in the lamp lighting my way. A soldiers woes and tales of memories long past pouring forth with a whiplashing of wounds, reopening to glare at me in my humbled state… Nothing left but to turn a new leaf over now… nothing left.
I stand aside and let the waves roar upon the sky, I stand aside and watch the lightning strike the earth. Water ruined clothing clings about my feet and I stand, though weeping, I stand and stir not a lie. “The world is a devil if ever I saw one.” My mind thus cries, claws tearing from the frothing sea, long spindly fingers of darkness so near I can hear her breath, soft and moaning so near, so near.
I grasp tightly to the last scrap within my hand, one more heartbeat, is there time? I cannot find a wisp of thought worth sealing, not a thought worth leaving. I’m staring out into hells night with the water pouring over me both from the skies and the sea, the mother of all nights… Why, why must it be? I feverishly turn my eyes upward and shake my fists as the thunder pounds upon me, ears ringing, mind swimming.
My knees cold and broken meet the concrete, puddle torn, cobble crossed path I shortly stood upon, blood sore and frozen. No time… There was never time and now she must be paid. I weep with the night, that swollen moment of a night, never forgotten in my mind.
Paper crushed between my fingers and spinning down, down. Am I lost? I wonder, watching the frantic paddle of a seagull turning, tossed from wave to wave like seaweed attempting to find shore. “Am I but to shrivel up here, in the now awakened time of everlasting mourning?” Greyness, greyness and the roaring green black tide… “That is but me.” I think aloud as I watch the seagull cry, its feathers drenched it spins and spins… Will it forever be such? One long storm, thoughts and feelings intertwined and a scattering of paper like leaves upon the brimming winds and turning tides.
Not a question, no, not at all, this a knowing. Within my soul I feel it calling and I must stand on those water washed toes and meet the anger of the sky. My fist is raised, “I shall fight!” Always, always… As the dawning sparrow cocks her head at me I nod, she knows, she sees the morning rise of daylight speaking.
I sigh. To trudge towards my cove, cozy by a warm fire. Yes, tomorrow comes and I am still here, here walking like a solider within the night.

 

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Fear Not The Lone One’s Cry

The sun breaking through fallen eaves,
the swaying branch of laughing trees,
the sight of silver-white snow,
a breathy mist, a sorrowful crow.

Tomorrow’s rain that calls new life,
leaves that spiral bringing flight,
the softest hush, the smoothest sigh,
another day to wave goodbye.

And then unto this night begone!
For love is swift and battles strong,
nothing left but freedoms win…
this life is ours to suffer in.

Triumph is sweet as tulips kiss
and lips shall meet as hearts shall risk,
another season sings its song.

The moon is high, the light glows on…

 

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The Dreamer & The Fawn

My grandmama (on my mother’s side) wrote a beautiful poem about a young man from long ago and a love that they shared yet was never spoken of. It stays with me, here and there I’ll see it among all her writings, letters and stories. When I think of it, as I find myself now, I always wonder why… why they never told each other how they truly felt? Never the right time perhaps? Something or someone always getting in the way? I suppose I’ll never really know… I can only hope that now on another plain they have found a way to exchange soft words and not far off glances, glances inevitably blocked by “the timing just isn’t right.”

Does one ever truly have the courage to risk breaking friendships that are so elegantly intertwined? Those that seem to stay in a land where time stands still, each moment filled with laughter and promises of forever never coming to pass.

The poet who speaks with flowers and words scripted upon stones hidden far away. But is it only a romantic fantasy? A stable boy finding his way to the princess, though worlds keep them long apart.

How do we dream up such things? Is it not because of the heart. The heart which through shadow and dark passage can only speak the truth, untainted by jealous thought and fear, the heart a peaceful warrior always steady, always strong. The candle in the wind.

“Bring me a rose any day and smile sweetly, I’ll remember, through star cast nights when the winds whisper ‘always and forever’, I’ll remember…”

“Wait for the pass to open when winter is finally gone, but be wary, sweetheart, of waiting far too long. The spring will come then go, the grass will weave and frosts not so tender hand will grasp and tear, another winter has come and for what? To leave one waiting… and springs perfect timing yet again to come, missed, now gone…”

For all my thought-filled wanderings I’ll leave your mind to play with this.

Be wary sweetheart. ‘Alone’ is ‘long’, when robbed of ‘A’, ‘E’ and followed by ‘G’. … and love is hardly this sensible… Be it always tender and strong.

-Said the wayward dreamer to the fawn.

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