When Did She Go

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The old paint on the canvas became transparent , when ? A tree appeared , when ? A tree inside the interior of the room , when ? And a dress with no one in it , when , floaters in a landscape , when ?

The narrator :

A repetition is seen , a repetition of a motif in different places , places where the lines suddenly possess music expressing a beautiful idea , ideas that sometimes become changed , replaced , painted over , the earlier ones disappearing , disappearing from view like all the questions Jack never asked Francie . And sometimes , sometimes the ghostly presence of older possibilities reemerge , a phantom code from an earlier universe , emerging like the voices of gods , ” you have a spirit inside of you “.

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Francies diary :

I didn’t love you well enough . Listening from across the street , I watched a man with a broom sweep the snow off his driveway , the sound strange . I thought of the ” umbrella girl ”  selling trinkets while shuffling along the beach of Sayulita . The sound of her feet on the sand , sand drowned in the sun , the sun where the horizon was just an illusion . Those trinkets of silver , bangles , old keepsakes lost and strings with bells attached , attached to my mind like a fine portrait on the wall in a fine museum . And then I remembered all the doors of my life even the place where I saw people standing on a shore but not able to see what they were doing . They appeared so very tall , tall like a row of skyscrapers , tall like Seraphim , the fiery burning ones worshipping continually . I was exhilarated and terrified , that sound like the sound of snow and sand , terrified that my dead mother could now be one of them, one of the Seraphim ,  and that she was calling to take me to God . Tonight , as I write , a hymn now fills the sky , a hymn so clear and sweet , why didn’t you know that I loved you ?

Jack :

You , I saw you today for only a moment . You didn’t see me . You , standing alone in a parking lot near the drugstore . You , you standing in the almost frozen rain , the rain seeming to fall only on you . I felt the water come straight into my arms . It was raining you . You drove off very fast in your car when you once took only a slow path lasting one year . You I loved . I loved you .

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Narrator :

There is a drawing on white paper she left for me . A drawing of lines , curvy lines so small and naked in their expression . A self portrait with her wrist watch turned upside down . When , when did she do it , when ?

Credits : paintings by Meg Dekorne

 

25 thoughts on “When Did She Go

  1. That last painting, Meg, truly seems a hymn in the sky, and took my breath away, with its radiations of soul, colors of earth and heavens, a beautiful portrait of the Self. Sun Madonna, blessing all with her presence and peaceful benevolence.

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    • Dear Janet ….I started that painting in Bulgaria 2 yrs. ago and before leaving Michigan I grasped my portfolio I hadn’t looked at since , not even remembering just what was there ….and so I finished the Madonna here in New Mexico . I also took along the print of your watercolor you gave to me a month ago when I was with you and Rex and it is on my meditation alter and I feel your love everyday in this land I now find myself …thank you does not say enough …love , megxxx

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    • John …your beautiful use of the word ” offering ” touches me as I pray before writing that someone reading will be moved by the divine to see the wonder and awe that is everywhere in our world ….so thank you my dear friend , so much from a heart of gratitude…love , megxxx

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    • Hariod , a heart from you , like the first time you found me ( one of my first followers ) matters to me so much and brings such joy ….thank you so much for your beautiful lasting presence ….love , megxxx<3

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  2. The narrative is absorbing, Meg, I read it over a few times letting it wash over me. I loved the way each story adds shades of meaning to the whole. The paintings are also stunning, each in their own ways. The last one reminding me very much of a retablo santo. Beautiful offering!

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    • Dear Jana …how very kind of you to be here , I love your thoughtful and kind presence and so grateful for your positive reaction to my paintings … I’m touched that you read this a few times , thank you my friend , love , megxxx

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  3. Sweet, moving and so full of longing and wonder, too. I love how your writing is like a butterfly flying among wildflowers. Touching down, lifting off, touching down, lifting off. We get tastes of images and then they are gone as we fly to the next. Lovely.

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  4. There is a spirit inside you, Meg, that teaches me of the spirit inside of me. I loved to see your paintings, and I think that like your writing, they have the quality of being resplendent in what is most essential. I love the phantom code from an earlier universe, and think we hear that singing to us from the sky daily. We are awash in echoes of what has been as well as what might have been, filled by the sweetness that comes from touching both.

    Peace and Love
    Michael

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