Paragraphs : Christy

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I went to him quiet with a notion to jump in the lake and drown , a sonnet of redemption playing for miles and miles and miles upon my tired face , my first cry opening a flame which the glass of water he gave me could not extinguish . I went to him alone , alone like pregnant camels are when left unattended . After listening when I told him what happened , William read from the Quran , ” In the name of God , merciful to all , compassionate to each “. I was scared , telling a lie as to coming here , even more so not divorced yet , actually being in his apartment , the cushions aligned , fine carpets outspread , the goblets all gleaming in the window green reflecting over Garfield Park where I take my children swimming and where he had first embraced me under a tree . I was frightened by the news flashing over the screen of the murder / suicide report of Christy , who I had grown up with , found dead by her lawyer husband , her naked body entwined around her lovers in a bed on the east side of town . She had looked at me only two days ago as she was leaving and I stood to enter the psychologists door , her blue eyes watchful and violet with vulnerability yet something paradoxically courageous in her direct gaze , a watery gaze staring straight into mine creating with it a strange sense of motion , a tide like ebb with an epilogue so swift , withholding almost as much pleasure as it yielded . Her search for Neverland a pandemonium furious and fearful leading her … and leading me too . Feeling the thud of an elevator , I was scared of the thirteenth floor . Would I spend nights in heaven hanging with the dead ? Thunder turned into the calm deep voice of Will reciting again , breaking an opening thru the clouds hovering in my mind . ” He it was who spread out the earth and placed in it towering mountains and rivers . Of all fruits he planted therein two pairs . He causes night to envelope day . In these are wonders for a people who reflect “. I was scared , scared to even think about what had happened or what I was doing . Where was God , where was the promised land , the land of the human skeleton , a skeleton of white bone , the meat of dead bodies picked at by crows and wild dogs , a body of muscles , organs , ovaries , lungs , the sound of the human heartbeat , the sound of a kiss , the wind over the sea , the call of the whale , the humming of the flying creatures , the long glide of the water swan , the sunrise on Lake Pontchartrain , the plink of the tiny tracks of the Plover bird , the blue avatars ? Where did it all exist ? Did it live on the Golden Record in the sky , pulsing behind a veil in the cosmos or was it here on the dirt path behind the narrow street of naked judgement in my neighborhood , the path into the Nature Center where dew like pearls on the grassy moss and branches reminds me of my children’s tenderness , my love for them always heading ” straight into the shining sun “. The air speaks falling leaves surrounding Will and me as I leave him standing still with restraint , a heroic eagle in the city . I pass a holy shrub growing which many years later a friend would compose a poem about and I hear a voice coming from the bed where my friend lay dead , telling a tale like poetry from her shroud , a tale that can still be true even if it’s not accurate like the creation story happening in only seven days . I walk into my house but I remain scared , scared and helpless , my secret scared about the tiny breath inside of me that no one knows , turning and turning and turning . I write these words to you if in heaven we don’t meet . . .

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28 thoughts on “Paragraphs : Christy”

    1. I very much appreciate your kind words , Mino , my friend ! Your most recent song is so very touching , ( I listened to it this morning ) may I use it on my site in the future ? Sending blessings of love to you and your family , megxxx

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      2. Oh Chris …I do feel this from you , reading your soulful poetry , I always sense your pure heart and spirit .I love hearing from you , it so matters to me these special connections and encouraging words not only as fellow writers but as dear friends ….thank you so much ,love , meggy

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      3. And I from you too, Meg. It may sound strange, but I always seem to get a feeling as to whether art, be it painting, music or writing, comes from the heart (as it should do), and I get this when I read your posts, so thank you.

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  6. Your writing fills me with questions I can’t answer. When the heart fills with birds all lined up, eager to dive into the sky, it’s so easy to wonder what there was beforehand. I loved this line, “a tale that can still be true even if it’s not accurate…” I think that summarizes so much. That line itself is so much truer than the meaning distilled from its syntax and grammar. I feel as though I am myself a tale that’s true, albeit inaccurate. I’m glad we met here, in this heaven…

    I sense in this writing, illuminated by the song you selected, the way changing relationships compel us to question so much about ourselves. How suddenly we’re vulnerable, even as we’re caught up in something powerful. How we’re plunged into the unknown…

    Peace and Love–
    Michael

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    1. I’m so so very glad we met here too Michael ,I’m humbled by the unknown who leaves touches of grace everywhere …perhaps those are the answers we are trying so much to understand …I’m aware of the feelings showing up in nature that enter my heart that wants to explode and realizing that all I have are experiences to compare …it is a swilling thing my mind struggles to comprehend ..and so I just write as if in a trance . Yes , like you mention , something powerful and vulnerable at the same instant …thank you for always encouraging my heart to have a voice . You are a very kind and dear friend with an intelligence far beyond mine … love , megxxx

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    1. Mark , thank you for this most kind response … I’m not always sure others know what I’m writing about ( I think you discover the clues of my words ) and your presence brings encouragement …love , megxxx

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