A dress to remember, a dance to see. Knighted in the rose gold hues of sunset As you read beneath a tree As your mind travels through the pages of the books You are reminded of the leaves around.
And Under branches, In the willows weep A golden bough you read under.
When the Penny for thoughts you sold a time ago And the tides pull in from the most distant moon.
Where troubled hands will walk the path holding troubled hands. As the concrete’s cracks will show.
It will be time to take their hand And go on home.
As Liam wanders Through the woodland trees He looks up and sees her Between the branches and leaves
The mountains aren’t far ahead So he runs toward a cliff’s edge Because he doesn’t want to miss her Not tonight.
He climbs to the cliff’s edge That towers the trees. A rock ledge That sticks out of the mountainside
The moon is full, visible and glowing.
He transforms from man to wolf, Shedding his clothes. Then softly growling before an inhale. And exhaling a solemn cry, As the wind carries his gentle bellows.
O’ the grey-furred wolf, How he howls at the moon Echoing through the deep, dense forest Under the lunar shadow
His ode to the lunar goddess. With her skin as dark as her eyes, And hair as light as the moon’s gleam. Tala, as the goddess of the sky rock listens…
And glistens ever more.
Rhys and Scarlett are in the bathroom. He tells her to sit in the chair in-front of the mirror. I’m just sitting on the edge of the bath as if my raised brow and squinted eyes didn’t give away my apprehension for what’s about to come because I’ve known Rhys forever and I know his sister too… I do kinda find it funny though, not gonna lie.
“Just a trim”
Rhys is silent for just a moment “yeah but i-“
“I mean it, Rhys. I swear down!”
“Thought you wanted a pixie cut but whatever“
“Yeah well, not off you”
Rhys shrugs his lips and seems to nod in agreement
I hold my drink to my chest, sitting on the bathtub just watching as they gift each other backhanded compliments and sarcastic comments before Rhys picks up the electric head shaver.
Rhys: “You’d know” Scarlett: “oh, would I?” Rhys: “yeah.” Scarlett: “well, remember what happened with the mailbox?” Rhys becomes silent, a pained smile approaching his face as he reaches into his bag. Scarlett continues “I wasn’t the one who said to-“
bzzzz
“RHYS!” Scarlett’s voice echoes in the bathroom. He then chuckles, turns the shaver off and puts it down next to the sink.
As she sat on the cold tiles of her bathroom floor, the plastic stick in her shaking hand. With each passing second, her heart beat racing, mirroring the thoughts in her mind.
As the second line faded into existence, time seemed to stop as she grappled with what had just happened. Her mind swirled in a whirlwind of thoughts into her soul, each one more chaotic than the last. “What would this mean for my future?” She thought. How would she navigate the untouched land of her new life chapter? And, perhaps most daunting of all, was she truly ready to bring a new life into this sometimes terrible world all on her own?
Tears became evident in her eyes. In the midst, she realized that her world, well her current world, was indeed ending – not in an apocalyptic blaze or of some passion she had once fantasised of, but in this new beginning.
With a deep breath, she slowly rose from the floor, staring at the test. Though the path ahead would be fraught with challenges and unknowns, she knew that she wanted to and would then have to face them head-on.
As she gazed out of the bathroom window and into the sunrise, she dared to believe that, amidst the chaos, and the chaos to come, there was still the potential for a love that was as profound and rewarding as any she had ever imagined.
She then clutched the test to her chest and with a hopeful smile, hoped for a safe travel to the second trimester.
It was my great grandad’s Though I hardly knew him. We went to London for a few days. The only thing I can remember is getting my hair caught in a boy’s shirt button. He was in the row in front of me.
His shirt was light blue. Plaid. Button up. I can’t remember his name but he looked familiar.
My five year old self whispered “Sorry, sorry, mommy help me” As my grandfather was giving a eulogy for his father. And my father unwrapped my hair and pulled my head back,
Leaving a few strands caught in the boy’s shirt.
The look on my father’s sad face, remembering his grandfather. The look of my mother’s face: Support. My older sibling’s face: boredom yet sympathy. My face: Head down. Shy. Not knowing what to do. Looking up every couple minutes To see the priest’s hairpiece flop around And stifle a laugh.
I remember the dances in the open foyer Where our steps echoed and stairs on either side spiralled. When we would twist And turn And laugh. But in a quieter moment, when the world seemed to scarce, he would give me a look:
A wide-eyed look of puppy dog awe Which made my eyes become downcast
I’d wonder whether to tell him about my predicament…
I wondered whether to speak of or even dare to expose my dark self.
I pondered what felt to be a million thoughts in a fraction of a second.
Will he think less of me? Will he love me any less?
In those tender moments, when the silence was most loud,
I questioned revealing what I held dear.
Would he still cherish the flaws that I hide?
Or would his love falter; wither like a rose in winter?
Yet, in his patient eyes, I find a glimpse; A reassurance that helps me believe it could be true. For love, though fragile, has a power, To mend the broken and heal internal cold… To shine a light in the dark.
So I take a breath And open my heart. A slight creek of the door to my soul…
Ajar.
And in this quiet moment, on the end of this bed, My Hemlock i gift to him. Palms open. “Please take it. Understand that it’s there. It will be..always there. In the back. But sometimes it wants the spotlight And you won’t like it. It takes time. And work. And added effort. But it’s not me… But it’s a part of me.”
He tells me it’s fine That he has demons Demons hiding in his mind Pulling their sharp claws at his soul And being with him will be work at times And being his will be effort.
His honesty cuts through the barbed wire fence His tears and my weeps as he takes my Hemlock And I hold him, greeting his Demons.
Though we know in our minds That we won’t That we can’t That one day, my Hemlock will poison him And his Demons will merge into one taking my soul with his. But we stay in each other’s arms
Because of love Because of love Because we share our love
Because love is the lie that keeps us alive.
In lands afar, in shadows’ haunt, There wanders a man, like a demon, jaunt. But he remedies, he heals their pain, ‘The traveling man’ has no name.
Through valleys deep and mountains tall, From human life, he may not exist at all. Through the dense forest at midnight nigh, His lantern roams underneath the sky. His grasps of herbs, a help to fix, Healing from his fingertips.
With potions brewed from a nature's stone, He tends to wounds, for rich or poor. In every village, he comes discreet, For his healing touch, folks can’t see.
Yet, in his heart, a longing hope, For home, other than a stethoscope. But duty calls, he cannot stay, The traveling medicine man’s nomadic way.
Through his path may wind direct him. In every heart, his legacy standing. For kindness spreads, like seeds in soil, In the wake of the healer, minute toil.
So here's to the traveler, brave and kind, Whose compassion calls to transcend time. His tales retold, his legend spans, The travelling lost soul of the medicine man.
The arena is silent. Lit dimly with only the glow of the LED light surrounding the bottom floor. A silhouette stands alone as the floor beneath them lights up and spotlights overhead beam down. A hole in the ground opens and a pillar rises up with an encased dome atop, a dome containing two six-sided dice. The dome opens and the person retrieves them. The audience looks on. Some lean forward, focusing intently. Silence surrounds the room, ever so uncomfortable silence as the figure steps up to the board. They reach their hand back, clutching the die in their fist. Their face scrunches then they throw. Both die fly across the board as the audience gasp. The first one lands and slightly spins.."FOUR!" The ref calls. Some lean back, others' gazes grow more intense, eyes wider with anticipation. The other dice keeps spinning. Spinning.. Spinning… "SIX" the ref calls. A moment passes before a unanimous sigh followed by light clapping. Soon enough, cheers fill the room and the guillotine is wheeled away by the Keepers.
The brightness illuminated my soul; Blinding my eyes… But only temporary. As the rose blooms and it’s thorns sharpen, Grey hairs dangle on my shoulder. Yet the same water ripples in the lake, The same trees sway in the same wind. Now the trees are older- as am I. They’ll outlive me. And I’ll outlive the fly on my shoulder. In fact, Everything ends. Time goes on. The world will continue to spin. The trees will outlive me And I’ll move forward into a bright light. The same light we are born into.
