It was the flick of your wrist as we sat,
opposite – leaning towards one another,
streamlined pine nestled between.
A barrier to some – but not us.
It was the slight halt of your step,
your elbow nudging the air:
where my arm was too slow,
to slip, into the crevice of your coat.
It was the look in your eyes,
slowly rolling up (like a pup)
on moving stairs and ramps.
And oh –
how I craved your caress.
It was the downward turn of your lips,
as I uttered my goodbyes.
That lingering hug, tinged with sadness.
Those mumbled words, I never heard.
It was the perplexed face,
harbouring worries of my welfare
whilst hurrying through stations and streets;
the helping hand when I stumbled.
It was the pillowed arm or chest,
that warmed my cheek at night
The blanket of you – surrounding.
Protection from the morning chill
It was the loss of these actions
and more, that instant regret
after proclaiming you were needy.
It was my loss – My need for you.
To hide beneath the dusty shores, wade through murky undergrowth and delve into the icy lakes of solitude. She went there alone. Wrapped herself in a heavy tarpaulin of sunbleached skin, worn with age yet heavy enough to secure her down, in the pools, of despair , that she found – alone.
After trawling through the deserts of time, her hand outstretched for aid, that was never found. No water of rejuvenation trickled through her salt cracked lips, her weary bones found no comfort in the angles of the rocks of contemplation. After a time, she learned to counter the winds of fortune, turn away from the blasts: her spine bare for the impact.
If you look to the marks on the soles of her feet , blackened by ashes, solidified by infliction: know that these are not the marks of her failure, but reminders of her strength. Mottled with scars of endurance: she is a marked woman yet not beaten.
Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Hurricane Willem nu je hier bent. Welcome to the blog of Discobar Bizar, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Hurricane Willem whilst you are here!
“I hate endings. Just detest them. Beginnings are definitely the most exciting, middles are perplexing and endings are a disaster. . . . The temptation towards resolution, towards wrapping up the package, seems to me a terrible trap. Why not be more honest with the moment? The most authentic endings are the ones which are already revolving towards another beginning. That’s genius.” ― Sam Shepard