The Songs We Hear

January 1, 2019 by Leave a Comment

I never stopped hearing her song or feeling like I was supposed to be the one hearing it.

Never tried to ask if it was for me or if she knew what she was doing because it felt a bit like looking behind the curtain to see if the wizard was only human.

Years apart but never completely separated we lived parallel lives and kept going as if none of it mattered.

Until the day we shared a meal and real conversation about who we were, are and wanted to be.

It changed everything.

My gut said relax and go with it while my head said be cautious you are not Charlie Brown trying to kick the ball Lucy is holding.

The Songs We Hear

I often told the universe to release me or bring us closer together.

“I don’t know if I am talking to myself or if this is being heard by someone or something that matters and has influence. But just in case I am and you/it do, here is my request. Set me free or change the equation.”

Some days I feared being set free and some days I wondered what happens when you get what you asked for.

And then came the day and the change.

We picked up where we left off and tried not to smile too quickly for fear that it would give away our true thoughts.

That didn’t last because eventually we pulled back the curtains and shared a little bit.

Ever since then the ship has been sailing pretty smoothly towards unknown shores. This is in spite of having told the navigator which way to go.

I choose not to spend too much time worrying or wondering what it all means. Better to be in the moment and to enjoy the ride.

It is a finer way to live.

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction

The Hand On The Back Of Your Head

October 25, 2018 by Leave a Comment

He told me the thing he remembered the most wasn’t the silver bracelets that kept his arms behind his back or the smell of a car interior in desperate need of an odor neutralizer.

Nor was it the chatter of the radio or cackling of the people who saw him get his silver bracelets.

It was a hand.

“The hand on the back of your head stays with you. That rough push down that they do to keep you from banging it on the door frame is the clearest sign that you are not seen as a human.

It is a rough shove like they would give livestock they are guiding into the barn, which I guess is kind what happens.

Because they lead you to a barn or maybe a pen is a better word and lock you in.”

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction

Take A Chance For a Shmata

May 22, 2017 by 2 Comments

Sometimes you search for a Shmata not knowing you had spent your entire life looking.

It is only after you discover your Shmata that you recognize what you had been missing and begin to wonder if you are crazy.

You make excuses and drag your feet because it couldn’t possibly be what you think it could and by the time you realize what you have things happen and you realize you just witnessed a shooting star.

Except the night sky is no longer lit so brightly and all you have is a trail and memory.

Time passes and you begin to think that maybe you were wrong, maybe you fooled yourself into thinking it was special but in your heart you know better.

Your air has gone and you choke a little bit and wonder why the sun doesn’t shine quite so bright.

 

Are You Alone In The Dark?

It is hard not to feel like you are alone in the dark and to wonder if that feeling is proof of your having fooled yourself.

And just when you are convinced you are indeed alone you find fingers wrapped in yours and for a long while you smile and your heart soars because the warmth is back.

Until it is not and you wonder if it is a cycle or a hiccup.

Maybe it is both and maybe it is neither.

The funny thing is you wander around trying to pretend it is meaningless even though you are convinced you’re still not alone in the dark.

All you need to do is reach and you’ll find those fingers again. Somewhere in the darkness you’ll hear a voice reprimand you for not believing.

And you’ll say you were told not to believe and be told you were always told to ignore the voice.

That will make you crazy because sometimes you follow and sometimes you ignore.

Red dress, blue dress–it doesn’t matter what fucking dress it is.

Wear it and then take it off.

You just know in your gut that you are right.

It is the best thing ever and a curse because even though you are convinced there is that little voice that says wait until the fingers find yours.

Is that really what you are supposed to do?

The boys of your youth would call you a pussy for that and though you never really cared, you sort of do now.

Maybe it is because you hope that you’re supposed to take that risk and you’ll be rewarded for doing so.

But if you are not, if you are wrong, well it is not much fun getting smacked in the mouth now is it.

We were together, I forget the rest- Whitman

That ring of fire burns, burns, burns- that fucking ring of fire.

Close your eyes and find your center and ask yourself what happens when lightning strikes and the impossible and improbable come to be.

It all started with one single moment and it could all start again…or not.

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction

The Search For A Shmata

May 19, 2017 by 2 Comments

Smarter people than I don’t spend any time wondering, worrying or thinking about what they think they know or feel.

They focus upon what they can see, taste and touch in the most literal sense of those things.

If you can touch, taste or see it, well you know what is or is not real.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you’ll do
You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
Once Upon A Dream- Lana Del Rey ( Maleficent)

I hear it playing in my head as one of a multitude of songs and poems and try to ignore it.

Wrap myself in the safety and security of the tactile and concrete aspects of life because it provides more control and I crave that.

Crave it because other things are spinning in ways I can’t stop and it frightens me a bit.

But part of me likes the fear and chases the flame because it feels appropriate and right.

Because you search for a Shmata to wrap yourself in and remember the touch forever.

Everything changed and nothing will be the same.

Can’t say whether it is good or bad, only that it is and maybe that is the best way to look at it.

Words Are Insufficient

Sometimes words are insufficient which is why people like Whitman write things like “we were together, I forget the rest.”

Maybe that is all we need and the courage to follow our heart across the sea and through the woods.

Mine broke open wide so very long ago I cannot remember how or when. Sometimes I wonder if it has ever been repaired or if it ever will be.

And then I smile because of course it healed and of course it was ripped open again and healed again.

Now it is in a place and position I am not sure I recognize and maybe that is best. Maybe it is a reminder to step out of my comfort zone and test the water.

Out in the cold, searching for a Shmata never knowing if I will wrap myself around or be wrapped in it.

Some say secret worlds are best left alone and others say they exist to be shared and because they offer an opportunity for growth and exploration like none other.

Words just do it justice, so I let it be and stand on the balcony searching for a Shmata.

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction, Uncategorized

Push The River

November 27, 2016 by Leave a Comment

My closest family and friends will tell you I am famous for engaging in what some might call feats of stupidity and others might say tenacity.

They’d tell you about occasions upon which I’d come up against situations that seemed impossible and that somehow I managed to make them work.

Most of the time it had less to do with intelligence or innovation and more to do with my willingness to push the river.

Every time I did so it was with the knowledge that much of the water would flow through my fingers or around me and that it was a huge undertaking with the potential for massive failure.

But I figured the line between massive failure and success was thin and worth chasing.

People Aren’t Logical

What I should have thought about more carefully was how people don’t act logically, rationally or in their best interest and that trying to push the river with them was an even bigger crapshoot.

But I didn’t and that is how we end up in the middle of the story below.

****

I almost turned the photo below into a greeting card so that I could send it to someone who once told me I was the most important person in her life.

fireandrain  

Stared at the picture, heard the song playing inside my head and wondered if it would be taken in anger or disbelief.

Asked myself what I hoped to accomplish by sending it and decided there is no way it would be seen as anything but a provocative insult.

And then I really wanted to send it.

Because I am angry.wanted to scream, “I HAVE TOLD YOU IN EVERY WAY I KNOW HOW THAT I NEED YOUR HELP & YOU IGNORED ME!”

Because I want to scream, “I HAVE TOLD YOU IN EVERY WAY I KNOW HOW THAT I NEED YOUR HELP & YOU IGNORED ME!”

“I HAVE TOLD YOU IN EVERY WAY I KNOW HOW THAT I NEED YOUR HELP & YOU IGNORED ME!”

I thought that maybe, just maybe the damn song would catch her eye and ear.

And maybe her heart would hear it too and she would realize that I am standing in front of her.

My Time Is At Hand

In spite of my anger and frustration I never sent the card because I didn’t see it helping me.

Didn’t see it waking her up from her slumber and figured that if I am going to try and shake her from this comatose state I need to be direct.

But fear prevented me from taking a direct approach because rejection is always possible and I wasn’t ready for her to say there is no future.

Didn’t stop me from angrily staring at the reflection in the mirror and asking that guy to explain why our time is not at hand.

Demanded he answer the charge of enabling someone to drag our collective heart through the mud.

He just smiled and said it has always been about timing and that if we waited a little longer conditions would be more favorable.

I glared at the smug look on his face and he glared back at me.

“You like to think those 13 words will magically make her think about what would happen if she lost you forever and that the aforementioned thought would spur her into action.

But it might not be as you want or wish for. She might cry at the thought but that loss might not be enough to get her to take your hand because she might think it is too late.

She might try to protect her own heart and be cool in front of you. Don’t give her an ultimatum.”

I shook my fist at the mirror and rolled my eyes as he did it back to me.

separate soul

There really is no point pretending that the guy was going to tell me anything I didn’t know.

Since nothing good comes from trying to make choices after midnight I turned out the lights, went to bed and hoped that sleep would come sooner than later.

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction