A little snippet from The Untrodden Ways

Lucy dreamed of the sea. Of her sister’s eyes, so pale yet brilliant, and her hair the color of the sand touched by the sun. The water rushed to drench them and they laughed together, a sound like the memory of tinkling bells, mixing with the cries of gulls. She recalled the warm wood of the boardwalk, the taste of ice cream on their tongues as they tried to lick it fast before it turned to liquid, making little streams of sweetness that trickled from their wrists to their elbows, dripping from between their sticky fingers onto sand and wood and space that made up time.

        She wished that she could fill in all the cracks between those wooden boards with all the things she thought she should have known, should have been, should have done, and should have somehow made happen, both for herself and for her sister. Then later, for her son; for William. Years slipped past like echoes on the waves. She recalled and she forgot. She realized and regretted and let go. 

And then she woke. It was early yet, the morning light still soft upon the trees. The birds began their songs as she listened, familiar music to her never-lonely ears. How beautiful, she thought, this daily gift of life. Repeating and remembered and so often not appreciated, unnoticed as it passed.  

Throughout her time here at the cabin, the days had come and gone. The evenings all had welcomed her, had bade her sleep within their arms, and so she had. Each day and each year unfolding, giving way and then fading into all that had been lived, all that had been done. And now, finally, this day greeted her like the coming of a long-awaited friend.

For Lucy had a secret. One she’d been keeping for years. It was the one thing she had managed to hold onto that was hers and hers alone. It was easy, the not telling, once she’d thought about it. If she had told anyone she knew they’d only try and talk her out of it. Or not, depending upon how they felt about her. And she never cared to learn which ones were which – the ones to whom she mattered and the ones who never gave a damn. She’d had enough of the pain of finding out, the wounds of knowing everything you’d poured out of yourself and into the supposed soul of someone else, a soul you thought you shared, or in which you, at the very least, held some significance, only to find the bond was never there. Oh, the suffering for what had never been! The humiliation born of realization: you’d not only allowed the raping of your soul, you’d offered it up on a silver platter to be ravaged.

No, this was her truth to know and to keep, protected from those wanton, prying eyes. Although in recent years she’d grown terrified of slipping up and telling someone, or forgetting it entirely. But finally the day had come and she had succeeded in keeping her secret, at least as far as she could tell.

Lucy rose to stand beside the window, her palm resting on the sill, a smile creeping across her lips. She’d often wondered if it would come to this, if she’d really see this day, or if she’d quietly pass away while wrapped up in a web of dreamless sleep. Or, what she’d always feared the most; the complete betrayal of her mind and senses, becoming a living, breathing imprint of what had once been a fierce and vibrant being. She sent up a prayer of thanks to whomever may be listening, grateful she had made it to this day with her mind and thoughts still, at the very least, coherent…if only to herself.    

How many years had she wondered how she’d feel on this morning of the day? If she would notice any fear or pangs of regret or remaining longings for the life that could have been. She found she suffered nothing, save for the familiar dull ache in her left knee. For a moment she stood by the window, watching sunlight and shadows and marveling at their endlessly repeated dance.

And now it was time.

Lucy walked through the cabin, still clad in her ankle-length nightgown. A ghost in Scotch-plaid flannel, she thought, and laughed hoarsely at the image. Then, a realization. Finn would be angry with her. This was the one consideration that made her hesitate mid-stride. But then she pushed the thought aside – a bothersome cobweb – and walked on.

Her footfalls were light upon the wood. Her breath created steam which drifted away upon the chill morning air, tiny puffs of life escaping into freedom. Into nothing. Into everything.

Solstice

This is only the bittersweet stepping away from the childhood that never leaves us. The hoarding of memories stored up for the winter that we’ll feel inside our bones. It feels complete and yet unfinished. That is to say, as though it may have turned out better last time. Your words to me now fall upon deaf ears, so tired of hearing all you’ve had to say. But I’ll remember you in shadows. Tell my daughter how you used to make me smile. There’s a place for friends forgotten, the misplaced entities that had so warmed our hearts. Have we forgotten one another? Consumed by willed and forced amnesia; a breaking of the glass that once held all we’d caused each other to become.

 

There is a wildness to the future. Wandering through woods of barren trees. The path unending, bending back upon itself. The light ahead unfiltered, getting brighter, washing out the patterns we can’t see. Move ahead, they whisper from the Somewhere. Walk on and don’t look back and just let go. Have I told you that sometimes I really think I hear them calling? All these voices from the past, the haunted loss and longing fears. I hope to be a part of all of Someday, because I know it’s made of up these things: of papered skin and wrinkles, pin-curled hair that holds a color once its own, reflections of the moon upon the water, of lights that twinkle there and in bright eyes that shine in windblown darkness, of planted trees, of strings made up of popcorn and red berries, climbing branches and initials carved forever-never seen. In my own dreams of starlight waits a magic of a hope not yet grown old.

 

And then I wake, remember, and walk on.

 

 

The Mask

You didn’t have to wear the mask with me, you know

I would have accepted you

With every flaw

And loved you the more for them

I’ve endured more darts than you could ever throw

And for the life of me

I don’t know why

You’d choose to be the enemy

Maybe you’ve been left so bitter from the chance you let slip by

You can’t remember

What it’s like

To love and let love go

Or believe there could be anyone who’d let you have your place

Inside the heart

Of someone who

You’d never have to lose

I understand the cause of all these games you choose to play

The self-deception

And mistrust

You’ve been so eager to hold dear

I’ll never take your mask from you, you know

Just hold my tongue

Instead recall

That deep inside it kills you

That I’m here

Runaway

I’m not your fragile flower

Not the delicate creation

You had so hoped I would become

I’ll never be the glass-winged butterfly

You take down from your shelf

To show the world how beautifully

You’d helped to forge my wings

From ice and fire

I’ve chosen not to let you mold me

Leaping from your potter’s wheel

Clay dripping from my skin

I’ll find my own way home

Not by the path you’d force me down

But through the woods and past the stream

While feeling every breath

Without your blessing

I’ll never trip over the roots

Though you’d cautioned me

They’d reach out for my feet

And I won’t drown within the waters

As they whirl and twist and sway

I won’t be frozen by the snowfall

Or captured in the talons

Of a darkly feathered bird

I won’t fall out of the trees I climb

And if I do, I’ll land in buoyant grass

Then rest until I want to catch my breath

I won’t be frightened by the clouds

Or fear I may be watched by hidden eyes

Indentured by a timeworn deity

I never chose to know

And never wanted to indulge

I have escaped from every nightmare

Every make-believe constraint

You’d have me fear for all my life

My field has daffodils and roses

Fern grows wild from every tree

And ivy covers every stone I place

Upon this wall I’ve built

With all my truth

I’ve discovered every grace

You never wanted me to know

Because you couldn’t understand their voice

I’ll sing out loud and dance inside the rain

Be the fairy in the garden

Beside the swing that shared my childhood

And listen to the wind

Only the wind

The Wings

I was the little girl who used to fall and skin her knees

And then grew up and always seemed to skin her heart

“Don’t cry, doll.” My grandma’s words that I still hold to

As I’m drying my own tears

Time plays such soothing music while we dance to pass the years

The fleeting words like windblown sand across the page

We swim through echoes making peace with other loves

And broken dreams with shards of truth, while holding onto hopes

That hide like frightened children in the dark

You opened up the door that leads into your memories

Without a map you welcomed me inside

To wander through the narrow halls together

Some passions shared, some yet to be discovered

We looked behind the brick and mortar

Of these walls we’d built to shore up all the past

Illusions never vary - they are the things created

By a gentle hand that longs to hold the dream

I’ll let you in if you can promise you won’t see me

That you won’t notice all the dust

Or ask about the things that lurk in corners

Or that hide behind the drapes

Oh wait, I may still use that

What is that thing – the one beneath the sheet?

I’d forgotten all about it

But maybe it was really for the best

I can’t recall what I was thinking

When I offered you my wings

The rusty hinges atrophied and sore from lack of use

Or falling from the sky too many times

Perhaps I thought I’d never miss them

I half believe you may have thought the same

But nonetheless you took them

And up you flew while from the ground I watched

So glad for you but puzzled and bemused

Because somehow I’d always thought you’d take me with you