by Roddy Lumsden
No matter what you did to her, she said,
There’s times, she said, she misses you, your face
Will pucker in her dream, and times the bed’s
Too big. Stray hairs will surface in a place
You used to leave your shoes. A certain phrase,
Some old song on the radio, a joke
You had to be there for, she said, some days
It really gets to her; the way you smoked
Or held a cup, or her, and how you woke
Up crying in the night sometimes, the way
She’d stroke and hush you, and how you broke
Her still. All this she told me yesterday,
Then she rolled over, laughed, began to do
To me what she so rarely did with you.
Oh little moon child in dandelion field
Toes in the grass, a flower in your hair
Magical eyes waiting for moon revealed
Sun going down, painting amber across the sky
Gentle breeze blows, swaying deep emerald trees
Butterflies flutter, as your lips let out a precious sigh
Moon enters night,kissing softly stars shinning bright
Beautiful glow captivating your warm and tender heart
Oh little moon child, your soul now dances in the halo of light
by Rainer Rilke
No one lives his life
Disguised since childhood,
from voices and fears and little pleasures,
We come of age as masks.
Our true face never speaks.
Somewhere there must be storehouses
where all these lives are laid away
like suits of armor or old carriages
or clothes hanging limply on the walls.
Maybe all paths lead there,
to the repository of unlived things
This could have been written for me. It wasn’t, but it should have been.
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
what you know, which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.”
There are some actions that can open your eyes very wide. You see someone you thought you knew very well in a whole new light and it shocks you, that you could have been so easily fooled, that someone could hide who they really are so well and for such a long time.
How easy it is to throw out blame and accusation rather than take responsibility for the consequences of actions which you prefer not to accept. Unfortunately, the response I received nothing more than I had anticipated, but I was hoping just for once to be proved wrong.
I have never truly despised anyone before but then no one before has ever given me reason.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, it’s such a shame that it comes after and not before.
“I realized that once people are broken in certain ways they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one.”
And sometimes you watch yourself break. You sit and watch as piece by piece the inner ‘you’ falls apart, you grab at those pieces and try to repair the cracks and tears, over and over again until eventually, you just give up trying to make things whole again. Far better to build a bonfire, throw on the remains and wait to see what arises, phoenix like, from the flames.