When the days press in on one another
And our lives have grown long
When the sunset calls us home
We will go together
When the years settle on our shoulders
And our steps have grown slow
When the night calls us just so
We will go together
When our stories have all been heard
And the world has spun away
When the fog covers our footsteps
We will go together
(Music: Take This Heart of Gold, by Watchhouse)
Nothing is perfect
and in the cracks and crevices
there exists
a different kind of beauty.
In the spaces between
we find we have room to grow.
In our missteps
and our backtracking
we get to see the landscape
a second time through.
We get to choose again,
to try it differently.
And if not try again,
instead we learn
how to better find our path.
My rage is quiet
It is tired, and overwhelmed
But it is there, always
With a headline, an anecdote,
It rises up against my heart
Threatens to sweep me away
At once fathomless and focused
But always quiet
When did I learn this silence?
How did the girl
Who could never stay quiet
Become the woman
Who never made waves?
Riding instead on the quiet tide
Allowing herself to be dashed
On rocks sharp with fear and expectation
How did she become the quiet body
Of another’s possession
Whose history was no longer hers to write
Or correct
My rage is quiet
It is tired, and overwhelmed
But it is there,
Always.
Santa’s mother was the White Winter Queen. She left the world long ago, but a little of her magic is left in Santa, in addition to his own.
Santa was born at midnight on the winter solstice, with a full bright moon in a clear, crystal blue night sky and fresh snow on the ground. When the queen laid him in his cradle it lifted into the air just a little, gently rocking the baby to sleep. In fact, whenever Santa was placed in a cradle or cot, it would rise up and then land itself gently on the ground when he wanted out.
As Santa grew, he showed himself to be a child full of joy and laughter who wanted most in the world to make the people around him as happy as he was. He made toys and fidgets for all the other children of the Queen’s Wood, whether they were animal, elf, human, or otherwise. He made useful things, too, for the grown-ups of the Queen’s Wood, and of all the tools or toys ever made, Santa’s were always the strongest and best.
Santa never ate meat, and rarely vegetables, but seemed to thrive best on sweets - particularly candy canes and cookies. This vexed his mother, at first, worrying as a mother does for the health of her child. However, when she realized that it must be a special magic in him to thrive on these things, she made sure that he was given the sweetest, loveliest treats for all his meals. He grew large, and even more jolly so that his belly would shake whenever he laughed.
One day, the White Winter Queen summoned her son to her side. Santa was a young man by then, with long dark hair, a thick black beard, and twinkling blue eyes. The Queen told Santa that her time in the wood was almost done. She would be going back to where she was born, in another world, to live out the rest of her days in quiet retirement. She showed him a two mirrors, one which she would carry with her, and one for him to keep, and explained to him that with these mirrors he would be able to talk to her whenever he wished. Then she placed her hand gently on his head, and passed some of her magic to him, to help him keep safe the Queen’s Wood and all who dwelled within it. As her power passed into Santa, his hair and beard turned a snowy white color. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked away into the woods.
Santa found that he could do more than he ever had, including summoning winter snow storms or clearing the skies with a thought. He also found he could travel quite easily and quickly anywhere he wanted, by summoning the North Wind to carry him. The wind was cold, though, and uncomfortable without somewhere to sit, so he fashioned for himself a bright red sleigh with one reindeer to help him steer.
One day, Santa discovered that he had made so many toys and useful things that the residents of the Queen’s Wood (now Santa’s Wood) no longer needed him to make more, for what he had made for them never broke. He wondered what he should do, and for a while grew sad thinking that he wasn’t needed any longer. He decided to take his sleight out into the wide world, to see if there was somewhere else where people needed toys and fidgets and useful things that never broke.
On the back of the North Wind, Santa traveled around the whole wide world, watching quietly the people he found. There were poor people, rich people, sad people, and happy people. There were kings and beggars, merchants, maids, wives and widows. Children and adults. So many people, and a great many of them didn’t have as much as they needed. As Santa flew back home, he thought about all that he had seen, which included both the best and the worst that people could be, and he resolved to do what he could to bring some joy into the lives of the good people he had found.
i thought i knew
the shape of my reflection was defined
i had curves and angles, my borders well worn
reinforced by the time and tides of my life
there was the tallest peak, here the lowest valley
that field was where the ghosts walked
and this mountain side grew the choicest flowers
i wandered as i pleased, content
and on occasion pushed out the borders
but mostly, wandered
i believed i knew, believed i had the truth of it all
never once seeing the shadows that trailed behind
grasping at my ankles, directing my feet
hiding a truth i was unprepared for,
guiding me past the caves where old fears lurked
fears i’d thought long since evicted from my landscape
there they waited, fed by the shadows at my feet
whispering to me as i slept
ensuring i was kept in check, kept inside my borders
you came, at first, as a single ray of light
faint, but clear
breaking through a shroud i hadn’t known was there
i hungered for that light, and it seemed there would never be enough
yet i couldn’t bring myself to give it up
the more i got, the more i craved
and the light grew
day over day, i watched as my field of ghosts transformed
becoming pieces of myself i’d believed long dead
day over day, i wandered less at the direction of the shadows
and more at the direction of my whims
i explored the landscape over and over again
discovering new topography
here a valley had formed, there a river disappearing in the distance
that tree had become a forest, and this mountainside a range
borders disappeared
and yet those caves remained, mostly intact
sometimes i could see the shadows
stretching out from within, reaching towards my feet
sometimes they managed to catch me
but it became harder with each passing day
little lamb
what light you bring
reaching up and up
eyes bright with the world
bright with knowing
and not knowing
in your laugh,
all my joy contained
(date unknown, likely around 2009-2010)
slow train brought me down
round the hill and home again
to the place i left behind
all those lonesome years ago
so much change around me
barely found where i had been
deep down in memory
all those days gone by
found you waiting for me
a sadness heavy on my heart
as dark earth wrapped around you
all those farewells past
so much time, gone and done
with pieces of my love left lying
unspent in all our youth
all those words unspoken
slow train brought me down
round the hill and home again
to love, dead and still
all those lonesome years ago
Fashion for me a stick so strong
That I may travel the world;
Make it of oak and maple branch,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Forge for me a dagger of steel
That I may hunt for my food;
Make it as keen as the winter wind,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Carve for me a delicate cup
That I may drink of the dew;
Make it as plain as the leaf of a tree,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Build for me a velvet lined box
That I may carry your heart;
Give me your love, your life, your heart,
And then you may have my hand, my hand,
And then you may have my hand.
(Date unknown, likely around 2001.)
(Written when I was part of a writing group we called Scriptorium. This was inspired by the sound of fireworks outside my window.)
I heard a tapping at my window that night. I had thought it was just an odd sound effect, the loud pops of fireworks echoing off the window that sounded exactly like long sharp fingernails rapping on the glass. I would soon discover how wrong I was...
The first time it happened, night had already fallen, and the loud thud of far-off fireworks had not yet begun. It was the 4th of July, after all. My shades hadn’t yet been drawn, and there came a ghastly rapping at the window. It was loud enough that I could clearly hear it over my music, and loud enough to pull me out of the ramblings of my mind trying to work through my latest art project.
I put my reaction down to nerves, at first. I didnt really hear anything, did I? What was there to hear? But then there was the thud, as if the someone (or something) tapping at my window had fallen against the wall beneath. Then several more thuds, fainter this time. Then the tapping came back.
I pulled the shade, turned out the lights in my office, and pretended not to be at home. I grabbed a flashlight and steeled myself to go outside to confront whomever was playing such an awful prank on me. Didn't they know I had better things to do that night?
The moment I stepped outside, I heard the fireworks. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and went back inside. I didn’t want to have to confront some wacko outside my window. I just wanted to paint in peace.
I was back at my desk for maybe 20 minutes when it came again. That rapping, echoing off the glass and through the room, like a hollow clink of claws on the window. Could that really be fireworks? What the hell kind of fireworks made an echo like that? I decided to go back outside and stand by my window to see if I could catch the noise as it happened, tie it to the fireworks that caused it.
I grabbed my flashlight and shoes, and went back outside. once I got around the side of the house, I was in near-total darkness. My neighbors weren’t much for street or porch lights. Especially not on a night like this. I knew the area around my house well enough that I didn’t need the flashlight, but I felt better carrying it. Weapon, or illumination, at need.
My office is at the back of my house, the last in a line of bedrooms across that side of the building. As I approached my window, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks, regretting that phrase coming into my head just at that moment. Death isn’t a comforting thought when confronting the source of a mysterious noise or shadow.
I stood still for a moment, barely breathing, and waited. My eyes tried to scan the darkness around the window, around the edge of the house, looking for a recognizable shape. a source for the sound, for the shadowed movement. Nothing stirred. I held my breath, and my position, for as long as I could. Nothing happened. I exhaled and slowly started towards the window again, convinced the source of the shadow had been a cat or some other nocturnal animal. I didn’t yet realize how nocturnal, how animal, the source of the noises really was.
I hadnt taken two steps when I saw the shadows move again, this time directly under the window. I stopped and held my breath, watching for more movement. This time as it moved the shadows around the house seemed to gather and shift with it as if they were merely an extension of its presence. It pulled itself up, raising a huge dark head. Still, all I could really see was shadow, the flashlight all but forgotten in my hands. Its head swiveled towards me, shadows slithering around it like a foul mist, and two yellowed orbs blinked open at me. It leaned its head in closer to me, whuffing breath and shadow at me that smelled of damp, rotting earth. It regarded me with what I could only guess was curiosity, peering up and down the length of me. I could feel its gaze shifting through me, as if it were taking the measure and grain of my soul and storing the information for later on. After a few moments of this scrutiny, its head pulled back, and I could feel a distinct aura of puzzlement, and then disappointment. It turned to regard the window, and then looked at me again... and slowly backed away and before melting into the shadows. The smell of damp earth disappeared with it as the shadows lost their impenetrable inkiness.
After a moment or two, I edged over to where it had been standing, under my window. my feet squished into the ground directly under the window, and I could see darker patterns of earth left behind by the creature. Remembering my flashlight, I turned it on and shined it down on the patch of damp earth. maggots and worms of all kinds crawled through the tainted earth, and i stepped back in disgust. as I looked up, to turn away and go back into the safety of the house, my flashlight shone on the window, illuminating six faint scortch marks in the pattern of a six-fingered splayed hand, on the glass.
I got my ass back inside as fast as possible.
I have no idea what it was that I saw outside my window that night, nor why it left me alone. but I have bricked over all of the windows in my house now, and I never ever go out at night anymore.
You never know what you will find, lurking in the shadows, hunting.
we slept in a double bed upstairs and to the right
the room was blue
i can still hear the faint whispers of two children long grown
i used to steal the covers
we used to climb the dogwoods in the front yard
there were two of them
one for me and one for her
but she still took mine
in the summer we would hang the swing in the backyard
she pushed me too high
sometimes we played golf or table hockey in the basement
sometimes with our uncle's old army men and tanks
she always won
we often fought over my mother's old dolls
she always got the prettier one
we took turns riding in the front seat on the way home
mom would decide who sat where first
now we see each other once a year
talk on the phone maybe once a month
but we still share the bed
climb the trees
hang the swing
play army
and argue over the front seat
(Likely written around 1993)