A thousand year death

Journey to my vision
Sleep dreams of particles
Gathering like dust at the edge
Gathering momentum to fall
A thousand-year death
Upon my soul.
How you hang like jewels encrusted
The midnight velvet of whispering thoughts
Ghosts of yesterday rise
To haunt the child alive
As flickering voices return
Their darkness of lies slip through
The haze of forgotten memory
The blistering pain
Of an eclipsed sun seen
On eyes closed to the truth
Pried open to bear witness
To this tiny speck
Of star-dust that fell
And became one with the soul
Opened to receive energy given
To become stronger through blindness
Of what is and what shall be.

Photo found on Pixabey


Under the apple tree (prologue)

“Someday when you’re old enough to understand, it is then that you shall learn the secrets.”
Those were the last words that fell from her pale tinted lips.
I didn’t agree and tried to tell her so. I thought I was old enough and that I should be told now, not at some too far away time in the future, but now. She smiled at me, her mouth wrinkled in that crooked way that happened when she was being indecisive, and then she gave me that not-quite a hug embrace, as if she was afraid to hold me, as if I were a china doll that would break. Her long brown hair swept across my arm tickling it like when ants or spiders crawl across your skin and I remember thinking at the time that I wanted her to hold me so much closer. I didn’t want her to let me go. I think I felt angry that she with-held herself. I wanted to be a baby in her arms again and a yet a grownup at the same time but she let me go and took a step back.
I looked up into her green eyes that seemed to be filled with such a great sadness. Her eyes had always held a certain depth, a light I had always loved but somehow that light was dimmed now. I knew then at that moment that I would never see her again. I felt time standing still at that very second. I heard a faint bell ring in the distance and knew the church in town below always rang faithfully at noon. I don’t know how or why I knew that, and as I would later find out would be a piece of the secrets kept from me.
Those words and her absent touch would be her last goodbye.
I don’t remember if I cried as she pulled away. I only remember her words and how I felt unloved and angry for her not sharing her truth, for not leaving me that parting gift. I watched as she walked away down the path of oaks that seemed to move and sway with the gait of her walk.
Only then did I feel the hand take mine and as I looked down, the long rough and dirty fingers gently patted mine. I looked up at her, as she stood in the shadow of the clouds above me, so tall and stoic like a ship’s mast. She stepped closer to me and her eyes betrayed nothing. She just held my hand and watched as mother walked away. I felt my breath catch as the swaying brown-haired body went over the crest of the drive and out of my view.
I felt arms around me then, when I knew I was finally ready, when I needed her touch the most.
Her body bent like a sail in the breeze and she folded me in to her arms. She was my Aunt and I knew that she was all that I had left. I never saw any hint of sadness in her eyes at that moment, or at least I don’t remember if I had, but she looked at me and quietly said “when the time is right, your heart will know and then the truth will be told. It cannot be rushed. It is our story that will awaken like the tight bud on the tree the will unfold and blossom into itself. It will become what it is meant to be and you will be alive in the light of the possibility of all that is.”
It was then that I finally cried, in that moment that I finally felt loved.
The thought of the secrets slipped back into the dark corners of my mind, comfortably tucked away at that moment like a treasure in a chest and I knew that now was not the time for it. I was not to question it yet and I felt okay about that.
“Now is the time for growing my dear child, like the flowers in the garden or the apples in the orchard ” she said, and I wiped my face, smudging the dirt left on mine from her hands into my skin and I walked beside her under that sunlight that erupted through the clouds and felt a peace flow through me that all of my life had been absent. I felt her energy just by being in her presence, this woman I had never known but that I felt such a love, a connected kinship for. I felt like I had finally arrived home.
Her name was Alice and she was where it truly began.

She doesn’t live here anymore-Roxette
“We grew up together,
we’ve been here forever.
Barefoot in the summer,
cold in stormy weather.
She taught me all there is,
like magic and love,
lots of forgotten words.”

The Book of Alice and Amelie

The days were filled with movement and laughter the summer that we became. The time in our lives we had waited for, the night of the full moon in July when the ancient words were to be passed down from mother to daughter, a coming of age ritual that ran as far in the past as time itself. It was how it was to be and Amelie knew it as her truth. I was a little more distant at embracing it or as mother said, “always a little slower than the rest at acceptance”. She didn’t say it in a harsh or mean way, just as a fact that we knew as our truth. I was that way as I knew of no other way to be and I was always a little less eager at going first. Amelie was my twin and she had come first. She was first at everything and had a zest for life that turned her into such a whirlwind when she stepped into peoples lives that when they were around her, they felt as if the air were sucked away leaving them breathless as she blew through. She was born on the last day of June and I on the first day of July. The summer girls are what I remember most of the towns folks calling us. Our name was not summer but after awhile we just kind of learned to answer to it. “there goes those summer girls” is what we would hear as we passed through town and the people for the most part were friendly and welcoming but for some reason, they always kept a bit of a distance if mother was around. I remember the words I had heard from the Mary, “the town crier” as my mother liked to call her, when I was very young. My mother and I walked down the street to the corner farmer stand and I heard “there goes the witch breezing through with a summer child”. Mother kept walking, her grip still relaxed on my hand and I heard her muffle a soft chuckle and she smiled at me then and bade me to continue on. I did not know what a witch was and only later on our way home with our parcels did I ask.
“A witch is just a person who sees life through different eyes than the rest” she said and continued on to tell me of witches and their love of nature and all things that are sacred to their world. She did not say she was a witch. She did not have to. Later as I became old enough to attend school did I finally see the vulgar depictions of old hags on brooms and words that were thrust into my mind with any negative connotation to them. I was not one to speak of my feelings on things, instead leaving others to make up their own minds on what they held true. Amelie on the other hand was the complete opposite. Many fists flew if Amelie heard anything bad said about witches or their kin. I think the other kids got the worst of it in the end and after awhile the talk died down a bit, life returned to normal and Amelie actually gained alot of respect for standing her ground. I, being who I was, always kind of kept in the back ground and stayed out of the fray as much as possible.
She was in life the light and I was the darkness.
Her hair was a rich sable brown where as mine was the color of autumn wheat. For being twins, we didn’t look alike. I was tall and thin, almost boyish growing up and she was dainty and petite as I always thought girls should look like. But I accepted who I was as mother had taught us as children, that we are all built in unique ways, like trees that thrive in a forest, you will find many varieties and if we were to be trees, we would be apple trees of the orchard, each bearing a different kind of fruit. I held that image in my thoughts as I imagined myself a small green heart shaped apple and Amelie considered herself of the tart red variety.
It was summer time and where we lived the days grew longer and the air hung with the damp humid smell of earth. The cows layed about lazily and people moved a bit slower. Afternoons were spent floating in the pond or picking berries that grew in the weeds along side. We were fifteen that summer and in our souls we knew something was changing but I didn’t quite know at the time how important that change would be. Amelie and I spent all summer together, as we did most of our lives. We didn’t have to speak much and Amelie was always the chatter box, lately though, she had become more quiet than normal. We lay under the sun on the banks watching the dragon flies bounce back and forth, not worrying about much of anything. We were young and had no fears yet of the world. Our life had been spent in this small town for what seemed like forever and I was convinced that nothing would ever change.
I look back at those days and ask myself if I would have done anything any different? Would I have asked her to stay? I don’t think she would have nor do I think she could have, but I still would have asked. I never got that chance. I will never know how our lives would have changed had I had that chance. I cannot carry regret. What is done is done and the path was going to be tread by her feet alone. This moment of life was her journey, not mine and I could not follow the road she was meant to be on. I had my own.
Amelie and I had no secrets from each other or so I had thought. It was only after she was gone did I realize how wrong I was. Two can only be so close before the separation has to occur to enable growth. Like the trunk of a tree growing two at once together, after awhile one will rise up and move farther away to reach the sun to survive. There is only so much food to go around and as years pass by, it is separate or die. I just wasn’t ready for that tearing apart yet and like lessons learned in life, alot of times you don’t see the truth until in hindsight. When you can set aside emotion and really just see the truth that was always right there, you realize you just weren’t ready for it until you were. That is where the peace with things comes. The letting go and understanding that it is. It cannot be changed. Let it go and move forward.
To be continued…..

Lost and found

I immersed myself in
The tranquil pools
Of your love
Floated on the clear blue
Of a cloudless sky.
I was reflected in all you are
Moving through this life
Rippling with energy.
I lost myself into the depths of desire
And found myself becoming
Pulled down by the weight
Afraid to hit the earth below
Yet unable to rise above
As the waves pushed me so far away.
The treasure chest once opened
Contained nothing much
Just bits of weeds and broken shells
And a mirror that had cracked.
I looked into the reflection
And did not know who I saw there,
Emptiness and a ghostly form
That withered away
Before my eyes.
Afraid, I fought the pull
Cutting myself free to catch air
And rose higher and higher
To where the tiny speck of light remained,
Emerging with thunder and lightning
I Inhaled the air I had craved
And with a shake
Watched as diamond-like beads of water
Fell off of my wings.
I flew into the sky
Catching air into a passing cloud
And drifted away effortlessly
Higher and higher
Between the words and stars
I found myself
A treasure of feelings
A wealth of bliss
Of peace.
Lost then found.

Thoughts on a dream I had last night. My but those wings were miraculously large and glittering as I soared above a blue sea below. From afar it looked like tiny pools.

The peace field

I don’t know why it was
As I stood in that field of summer
Feeling the sun on my shoulders
And hearing the music as my tribe gathered,
There came to me a sense of peace
A sense that I had been here before
And my mind spoke softly
“No, this is not true” to my soul
Who shrugged it off with mirth,
“You know better my friend”, my soul countering
And I listened to the words
Going back and forth
And I thought this does not matter,
That is neither here nor there,
But now is the moment we are in
And the voices fell silent.
I don’t know why
As I stood in that field
Feeling breathless and free
How I came to be here,
I remember laughing out loud
And seeing the faces peer up at me
As if questioning my joy
But I was not ready yet,
Not to let them in
To share this moment,
This feeling,
In this grass that tickled my feet
And the sound of the bees buzzing
That seemed to grow louder
Their concert of summer and flowers,
Their movement from one to another
And I plucked a small purple clover
Twirling it between my fingers,
I walked to the water’s edge
Feeling the mist of the waterfall beyond
Almost non existent on the breeze,
I dropped the flower into the ripples
And watched it move down stream
Quietly until it was gone
And turning I looked up at the clouds
And to the sun above
Thinking to myself,
This is it,
Another perfect moment to remember
Another perfect moment once again.

Life of color

We danced the street
lights moving to the beat
of a hundred feet
a living wave
of laughter and song
the life of color
alive at night.
We give voice to the darkness
moments that will never
happen the same way again
and we were the rainbow
that brought smiles to
nameless faces we passed
and we were one
rippling like rain
blending like watercolor
on parchment.
We lived the dream
rocking the party
of each street we cross
harmony choir of happiness
dance walk past the shining shops
see the smiles
see the wonder
as energy moved us
a current of charged souls
sending vibes of happy
and my soul smiled

Holding light

I fell in love
With the soul of a universe
Holding its light
Like a million fireflies
In a jar
So,careful with the fragile bounty
Blinded by the miracle
Of it all.
I gave my dreams
Carried on a whispering wind
That fell soft upon the bed of leaves
That lay below your feet
And moved as you walked
Each step closer
To the heart.
I closed my eyes to imagine
The silver spectral light
Of your face in sleep
I touched the softness
The gentle spirit
the breath of peace
And caressed my dream
With beauty.


Crack of electricity
Coursing through
As the lightning strikes
The chord throbbing
Moving forward into
The realm of possibility.
If dreams came forth
Ah what tales they’d tell
Of their journey
Through time and space
Brought down
Within the soul
In light
And rays
Of visual splendor
Lightening the life with a fire
Coursing to the core
Of all that is.
Energy moved into states of being.