Paragraphs : Francis



I am born to die . I write an endless country . It is the year 2015 and until yesterday I had followed that summer day of 1983 , the day when love found me , into a muggy silence . A silence like the poems of Ahmed Matar , banned by the Muslim world , seeking freedom and looking for the promised land , throats covered by thorns . That morning , the man I was married too , returning from his 60 hour a week night job , walked in the side door as usual , fell into the bed I had just risen from where dreams lingered and my babies whimpering still echoed , erasing both , and me , with his rancid body odor of sour milk . I opened all the windows , shutting the bedroom door . ” You are a God of seeing ” ( Genesis 16:13 ) . Nineteen eighty three , it was the year a terrible storm cut short a free concert in New York Cities Central Park , the same year Kiss appeared on MTV unmasked and the year of amazingly beautiful light flashes seen on Jupiters’ moon , Io .  I sat on the front stoop listening to the birds first chirpings when he walked towards me , a stranger , a neighbor from around the corner who I had never spoken too , walking smooth like flowing black lava escaping , something rupturing my senses , something quenching an awareness of the famine  of my married days , days of pulsing flames laid bare by visions of the Mermaid Cafe near the Caves of Matala , Crete that I only saw on the pages of the National Geographic . And so it was , it was this day , this certain day after the rains when he approached that I suddenly inhaled the wind thru the giant Oak tree in our front yard on Jefferson Street , the 800 block that had been my entire world . He sat on the warm brick as my little boys splashed in the walkway puddle . In peering at the sky out of shyness , I caught a glimpse of the treasure hunter holding open the sky of majestic language where Solomon sprinkles both saints and sinners with hyssop . And in that single moment , it all began . Beginning with a lonely abduction from unhappiness into shame , soundlessly along the fog line , the white line painted on the outside edge of the freeway where morning stars sing without a care for the darkness of night . The mist of August summing up the whole world . I heard the Oracle of Delphi , ” know thy self ” as a turbaned man sitting outside Hotel Kahn drinks dark tea from across the divide . I could hear the sound of seeds falling into the rabbits cage and my father asking , ” don’t we have to eat , we didn’t die yet “. The fish in Lake Michigan slumber , the Ojibwa arrow spins , smoking immense thru the landscape . It is a moving world . The wind feels insane flying my hair as he looks at me , ” hi , I know your Francie , my friend told me …I’m William “. The antennae on the nearest tower receives and transmits from Voyager 1 , ” there is never any going back “. My silence of 32 years has been drunk on the memory , wanting mercy . And in this waiting , my story begins as my own soul drifts into my view . I ask , how could it possibly help to plant a lie in the middle of my life ? If someone loves you so much you really like how they smell . I saw the flaming sky soon to burn my spirit to transformation but not before wrath , destruction and sorrow pierced its weeping wound into a strange birth . I write a death march down these pages , a long , lone dark black line .

” oh let the sun beat down upon my face

stars to fill my dream

i am a traveler of both time and space

to be where I have been ”

Robert Plant , Led Zeppelin : ” Kashmir ”


Credits : first two photos by Denise Thomasin Photography

end photo by David Talley Photography

41 thoughts on “Paragraphs : Francis

    1. My dear friend from long ago ….the soul of your comment touches me deep ( your willingness to see with love ) is a beautiful gift to me and I am so grateful Carol ….I love you , megxxx


    1. Thank you dear Van …I once asked myself if there could be beauty in sadness …and I was shown that yes , it often abides there …your encouragement and kindness touches my heart …blessings and love my friend

      Liked by 2 people

  1. “I write a death march down these pages , a long , lone dark black line .”
    One needs to die in order to be resurrected. You show us the terrifying beauty in this transformation. Thank you for being so fearless, Meg.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Julie , my deerest friend ….I don’t know what to say , only thank you for your constant loving understanding ( your words ” caress my ear ” ) hugs and love always , megxxx


  2. It is often from those deep moments in reflection of the past, we see how each shadow holds it light.. And this piece of writing dear Meg breaks through the odours held within memory, as we let go to refresh anew our spirits with Love which knows no bounds, no contracts and no limits if we allow it to be..

    I was captivated dear Meg… understanding so much more than you will ever know..
    Love and Blessings always
    Sue xxxx ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Hi Sue …”Love , no bounds , no contracts , no limits ” …your astounding comment so matters to me ….and dear friend , to know that you understand the feeling of my story in a personal way brings me closer to you and for this I am most grateful ….may you too be refreshed with blessings of love …hugs , always , megxxx

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Meg, I admire so very much the power and haunting beauty of your writing. When you go fishing for words, your vast heart is strong enough to pull the nets up from someplace very deep where few dare to venture. You find these lines– not just the lone dark black one– that we recognize but don’t understand, until we sit with you in quiet for a while, letting your words dissolve into our flesh and our souls, as they release a scent into the air that we then remember…

    I loved so many of your images… These are a few I have collected to keep near… “I write an endless country…” “…throats covered by thorns…” “…you are a God of seeing…” “my own soul drifts into my view…”

    Love… yes, that.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dear Michael
      ” to sit with elders of the gentle race this world has seldom seen
      they talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed ”
      ( Kashmir )
      I think of you how every moment matters ….and is remembered .

      Thankyou my loving friend …. from my heart
      Love , megxxx

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Paragraphs, parallels, straits and passages, writing and natural worlds, each find their way ashore and to sea, like mountain mists and ocean fogs, they drop as night cools day’s temper, between sunset and sunrise, with all those memories sealed or opened inside moments past and thought of in times rain shadow. Where I found myself while reading.

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    1. Sean , .. Your poetic thoughts move me deeply, they are intense and beautiful and I am so very grateful for your presence here and sharing with me …it truly matters , thankyou Sean , love and blessings …megxxx

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I liked the way you write it is honest, true to life.
    Love is important it comes before work.
    Everything is subject to change, expectations change then promises hold like chains.
    Without caring and sharing love dies and the bird flies._/\_

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh no.. I undertand this..!!! I couldnt’t say that your texts..for this me excuse..!!! Sorry..!!! Blessings and love for you too..!!! Francisco

        Liked by 1 person

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