Posts Tagged ‘sliceoflife’

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I mean you no harm

19 juillet 2016

I mean you no harm

As I walk the path

As I find my way

 

I mean you no harm

As I look back

And see others

Breathe where I exhaled

 

I mean you no harm

As I try, as I stumble,

As I preserve my light.

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After the long morrow

16 novembre 2015

The days have gone by one by one, faded dawns replacing it’s preceding sisters, each morrow so long and sad, a tern succession of blurred obligations fulfilled in a dizzy automated stance, any excuse being good enough, fears chasing time, filling every hour with noise because in stillness were thoughts, the cold harsh reality of things that are.

Because the dark had gone and light was too violent, because I needed the protections of shadows, of compromise, because I wasn’t strong enough to face today, because there is always the promise of the day after tomorrow.

And so, here we are.
What I did not know of your games, I could guess.
I know all your changing stories, all your conflicting truths, the cold calculation of your smile paired with your eyes lacking warmth, the deliberate choices that brought us where we were, where we are. I have fought the winds of flux, the unease of wanting to avoid the inevitable, I so desperately wanted to think that something redeemable lies dormant in everyone.
Isn’t everything about waking up.

There is no sadness, no pity, I do not hurt. I will not miss you.
It took a while before the curtain lifted high enough, before the light around me had so grown that I could not remain blind any longer. Even then… I was in no hurry to confront the chess game I knew existed beneath my feet, the arena at the center of which you had made me piece of.

Why doesn’t matter. I knew.

Because I didn’t want to see for so long, I enabled the slow  and inevitable erosion of my will, because I let it go once, then twice and thrice, because I didn’t take a stand, I locked myself in a pattern.

There is nothing in what you did to me that I didn’t let you do.

Until I was in tomorrow and the day after, until things could be no more. Until I let you go.
I thought the fire had gone, too, I felt so cold, I thought I would need to climb mountains to find myself again… I had lost faith in the sparkle that will always dance in my heart, in the love that my kindreds will always give to me unconditionally. In the gardians that look over my shoulder and protect me in the strangest of ways.

I am loved and I have worth, I didn’t need to manipulate or walk on anyone to get where I am: I do not have anything to prove, my path is walked on my own terms and today, I get to decide where I want to go, and who I will go there with.

Good bye you, all of you, my dark shadows, my drains, you who held power over me and missused it knowingly, you who thought you could make me into something I’m not.

I am me, I am free, and I’m definitely enjoying the ride.

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I have switched to the other side: it’s peaceful there

11 mai 2015

In the land of remembrance, there’s a song whispering in my ear. In the forgotten memories, there’s light, love, loss, tears, there’s life.

There’s a taste of bitter, sweet… today I know all the answers to yesterday’s angst, today I know to let go of the past and to look forward to the best from the future, yet all the while knowing that the worst may still come.

Let it be. I will survive.

Today there are regrets of things undone, of things unlived, today I can say that I should have ran, I should have escaladed barriers and jumped over cliffs. I still can, it’s not too late. Today I can look forward to tomorrow.

Today I know that there’s a true meaning to clichés, they didn’t create themselves out of thin air in someone’s overflowing’s imagination, clichés have their reasons to be and yes, we only have one life, so, what are you going to do with yours ?

There’s no point in looking back except for strength, in order to find the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, the courage to change what can be changed, and the wisdom to know the one from the other. We need to climb our own mountains; we have to tear down our private walls, and we shall overcome if we believe in ourselves.

 

We truly and always have held all the answers within ourselves.

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When John walks at night

29 janvier 2012

Read the rest of this entry ?

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Sitting on a bench, looking at the sky

22 juin 2011
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It’s been such a long forth week… You sit on the bench, too tired to go on, your body resting on the cold green wood, you close your eyes long enough to relax and at last you breathe. You are lost where you should be, it’s taken so long – your whole life – that a few more minutes or days even won’t matter.

It is all right

Maybe you’re going to stay there for a little while, in this foreign silent street you never knew existed. Just for a little while, just long enough to look up at the sky and dream with the clouds. When you were little, you thought they were made with sugar and that living there would be so exciting. To look down on the world, to travel from North to South as carefree as the wind…

The sky today is beautiful; maybe you could lie down and truly look at it. T'is the middle of the day and the street is empty, no one would see you – a man as old as you looking up at nothing, how silly. It is achingly whole and refuses to choose between the deep blue partly hiding behind white growing clouds. Far from spreading darkness, they are infusing light throughout and it is an odd breathtaking sight. And yet you breathe and it is your heart that’s requiring repairs.

For years your heart bled for a train you never took, everyday for eleven months you didn’t take that train, over and over, and when you looked back you had regrets and realized this was worse than feeling remorse.

One day, who knows why, you did stop overthinking and followed your instincts, but it was too late. Her patience had worn thin, she was gone. There was no one waiting for you at the end of your journey. Perhaps she didn’t love you enough, you thought bitterly, but you knew you were wrong.

Since then, never again, you forgot to be afraid and you lived. You took risks and you won, you travelled from North to South as carefree as the wind, you never looked back and nevermore had regrets, and even forgot about remorse. Of course what you built lacked stability, how could you on thin air, and what was the point. There was an eventual wife, children, women on the side, some thriving business ventures you sold when you grew restless as you always do.

Until two weeks ago and an envelope in the mail.

It looked as all mail does, uninteresting, and yet after reading it you didn’t know whether to feel drowned or saved. You learned of this street you never knew existed, you learned of silent words that had never reached you. There is hope you think, decisions to be made. You have a few days before you, enough time to think, to take the time. You probably already have the answers – for when did you not?

You look at the sky again… The wind is changing.

At last you get up and you walk away: you will come back tomorrow.

Maybe.

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Oh Brother

26 février 2011

Her brother always seemed to get away with everything he did and she both envied and hated him for that. He had the guts and the arrogance to do as he pleased and never seemed to give second thoughts about consequences nor gossip.

Of course, someone had to walk behind him and clean up the pieces. Life is about balance she thought… He had no boundaries and therefore she lived surrounded by walls of duty. She took care of their parents as they declined in age, she kept their house cleaned and livable. She eased things up with ex-girlfriends and bartenders and even went as far as to pay his tabs once or twice. 

Yes, when her brother moved away from Oldbrooks to cold and wet Perth in Scotland, she had felt relieved. 

For seven years, her life fell into a well oiled routine, between her part-time job working for the public library, her parents in their lovely house with a garden and a spruce, and Olbrooks’ Ladies’ Bookclub. She had been courted once or twice in the past by the doctor’s son and by the Pastor. The son followed his father’s step. He became a doctor and grew both a moustache and a beer stomach. The Pastor married Jane who was blond and carefree and younger, with light grey eyes and lips like pink rosebuds. 

The idea of love appealed to her, but her heart never fluttered. At 34 she didn’t think she had it in her to make any man happy, and even less for her to be happy.

When their mother died, her brother barely made it to the funeral and seemed nonplussed. He’d « made it good » over there in Perth, and was planning on marrying a widow of some sort. He kept his visit short, which was fine by her as it meant less time fearing whatever mishap he was bound to make. It there’d been any she never heard. He stayed out mostly, looking sombre and mysterious, and she didn’t pay much attention to rumours about poker games and money he may have owed.

After he was gone, she reflected that not once had he asked if there was anything she and her father needed.

A few years went by, news from him became scarce. He appeared to succeed in marrying his widow but the marriage didn’t last long. She had no idea how he earned his living. Some letters addressed to their father sometimes pleaded for money. He would sigh, then shrug, then write a check swearing it was the last time.

Now her brother was coming back, arrogant as ever, and she was waiting for him with a vengeance. He’d written with instructions about how he saw fit to « handle » things and the succession… About him being « the Man » now… But she was well prepared and ready, she had her little secret boiling in her heart and making it beat slightly faster and a mite too hard. 

Their father had finally given his last breath, poor soul, after months of agony during which she’d stayed at his bedside, fed him like a baby and cleaned his sheets. Some friendly souls from the parish came to look after him so she could keep on working. Their father left them with a good house thanks to her, and a very lovely bank account. She knew all about this, she’d kept his books and made good choices with the investments. She also knew what she wanted to do with some of the money. She wanted to go on a cruise and have the kitchen repainted. The house would feel more like it was hers, and after all these bitter years dedicated to others, she felt she’s earned it all right.

Her brother was coming back, tonight. He would be welcomed with the Irish stew he’s requested, but with a twist. She had finally given in to the Doctor’s son’s attentions, with a few conditions well spelled out. It wasn’t so bad after all, sleeping with a man, she could get used to it. She could get used to being courted on a regular basis and to being his mistress, marriage was out of the question now, she was going to have a little house and sharing was out of the question. 

She put her hand in her pocket and took a vial out. A few drops, that was all that was needed.