What can I bring?
To this world of candy trees
Those moss filled vines tickling me up through my spine.
Is it the open sky?
The voices in the field?
Black rituals make the gathering tremble when the women begin to fly.
Say it doesn’t matter to make you weep near the highway.
Like Lead Belly said, “In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine”
We can hold each other till sunrise.
In the deep caverns of black and white
Poor boy disappears into a man
Today and tonight, he will wrap himself with buildings and sky
He thinks of liberty and falling skies.
Down by the river that is turning purple
The silent girl, turns around and around
She gathers all before womanhood.
We don’t hear the steps behind us
Following in the night and skipping in the morning
Before the sparrow sings its song.
During the summer when the warm winds blow.
An instant rapture becomes instant sorrow.
At 3:00 am, I am awakening by your ghost, your breath and voice in my ear.
It is ecstasy and torture, no lover of mine.
At 8:00 am the day begins and in the song of the sparrow and crow. I feel your hands upon my hips gliding towards the passage that you only know.
Around 4:00 pm after tea, I understand the feeling of being lost.
The tales of towers, fair maidens and dragons. Of being conquered and the subtle exposure to your waters.
In the beginning of spring he would send her letters.
Evelyn was thrilled when they arrived. The anticipation of receiving them after the long winter would bring a smile to her face knowing that they had traveled far. Sometimes the paper he wrote on would carry reminders of a distant land. She would imagine the exotic sights he gazed upon when the smell of sandalwood and frankincense reached her nose.
Their history was one that was long and traveled. No secrets where left between them. Most people had thought of them as husband and wife. But the romantic side of their relationship had ended years ago. Distance can be cruel to a relationship and even crueller when someone’s heart refuses to move on. She had always thought that she was stuck in a time capsule. The refusal to go with him when he asked her, the refusal to accept his proposal of marriage. But it was her choice and she choose her freedom above all else.
Evelyn did not regret her decision. Her life was rich but on occasion she would feel a nagging sadness creeping up on her. Imaging some twisted soul trying to drown her spirit into a murky lake.
Today she thought she should go for a walk and hopefully when she returned the first letter would arrive. She needed to stretch her legs after being cooped up all winter long. This particular winter was brutal. Snow had fallen every day and was combined with freezing temperatures. Living alone in the country was rough but she enjoyed the solitude. The task of chopping her own firewood, inhaling the winter air that filled her lungs with a sharp, but brisk moment of energy.