I ask you directly because your silence takes me to the edge and I drown in deep water. What do you fear? You are free as a line that escapes from the pen. We made magic for a time. Our colours sang loudly. Our words whispered softly. Does your heart miss one tiny beat?
You have to look for the signs, said the Goddess.
Is it the snow on the mountain, I asked?
The tree Gods swayed in the bone-chilling gale,
It’s always there if you look.
I passed a glance at the cloud torn sky,
But the Gods continued to shake,
I followed the path and stumbled on rocks,
Dead leaves crackled in mirth.
It’s not so far, said the old man tree,
Watch your step, said the grass!
I don’t know what to say in the face of madness. Words are never enough.
Photo by Jeni McMillan
I’m drunk on possibilities. You know, one of those moments when you want to say I love you guys, to the ex who I truly loved, the friends who I love present tense and the people who I will love in the future. Life is so fucking conjugated. And yet so simple.
Sometimes there’s just magic. Nothing easily explained, yet so easily understood. It begins like a tiny drop of water tumbling earthwards, touching leaves, fronds, petals. Sliding with consummate grace down blades of grass to ground with a sigh. Over time the water table fills. Each space between now plump with possibilities. A bone-dry drought broken. Birds flock from distant lands and rest on the surface. Thus, the Sun God returns and the Goddess awakens.
I have an inappropriate crush on you, she wrote. 9 times. It was a glitch, thanks to the vagaries of the unsmart phone.
He reminded her and added that he read it. 9 times. Thinking that there may have been something else hidden in the text.
Exposed. They laughed.
After the fifth glass of wine she left her bike propped against the tree. Unlocked. They took a cab to a bar and opened the door on all things unsaid. It didn’t matter any more.
At 3am she walked home. Her breath damp. Like the grass in the deserted park. He stayed. Someone had to talk to the whiskey.
She whispered sweet nothings into her pillow then rolled over into a dreamless sleep.
I’m feeling under-pashed she said with a smile on her lips. I wanted to use that phase! The perfect opener to a can of worms. My friend traced the dusty ground with her bare toes and looked me directly in the eyes. You can, she said, you know a crush is never inappropriate.