Loved
One
Loved
one, it is time to begin communication. I sit looking out at a moth
once a pillar cat. It is hiding in green octopus arms. To begin, I
loved you the moment you stepped from behind the hope hidden within
me, not one thing or person, but everything. Gardens themselves have
spoken to me.
Would
you sit beside me? Do you feel me when I visit in my sleep or the
morning sun rising? Help mate, help us reconcile. I love like the
lion, Babylon like a madman who can provide and do all. “Can
you do it?” I asked her.
“I
am to return to a world that wants me without you,” was all that
she could reply.
The
loved image, forget her. I sit between the once walls of Eden and
the gate that Satan slipped over. I give my body up to patience. I
have tried to forget the heart felt need that keeps wanting her to
be here. My Genevieve, woman of the earth, let me wait for you lonely
like Adam, asking for goodness to help him. God take my rib, it is
ready. Split my side in my sleep and give it to her to eat. Bring
her wisdom. Let her escape the hounds that torment her.
Everything
must be done in this time backwards.
“Patience
my friend. Time takes time in our healing, and bodies are not ready
for the steeling of ribs. Just sit, forget need, and write your love
letters. Swim in the ocean, and speak to the people you meet on the
streets. This does not need even Eve. Adam has had her already, and
given her up in a wailing and beating of breasts.”
Beach
Wedding
“Genevieve
I can still see you.”
The
colour of our sun is a purple blue hue that washes my vision. Ink
from some gland that gives love. I feel how it calms. Reminding of
this beach, of her smile. Brown smiling. In every pore brown pouring
into her from the earth, being more than reflected she smiles.
“I
see the glow you have. I see how you look out in love, with your brown
toes, against the grained sand, again the same sand I now kiss.”
In
the wedding photos there were a line of people, brides maid’s
gowns, men dressed in tuxedos. Though I saw only her, Genevieve, her
leg, the hem of the dress hitched up over one knee. From the smile
in her eyes I remembered each pulse of that evening.
She
was my Dorigen. I had suffered and now shine upon. Starting out with
the need to repent I begged a reward for my troubles.
“This
is the process where the soul throbs and palpitates,” I said
as I rose early the next morning. “I am suffering with the growth
of love’s wings. It is feverish and itches. A two minded sensation.
I am perplexed and maddened.”
My
fiance and I returned from the wedding, went straight into our hotel
room. I slept on the floor. Fever had hit, sweating and high. High
from a beach night’s dancing and madness. I picked up
Plato and threw him at the wall, above her sleeping head.
“Let
no one disturb and frighten you by saying that the reasonable friend
should be preferred to him who is in a frenzy,” I screamed down
to my sleeping innocent, my loved once princess with all the silence
I could find, hopelessness trying to pierce her heart quietly. “Love
is not sent from heaven for the advantage of the lover and the beloved
alike. We must prove that such madness is divine and given for our
greatest happiness.”
I
picked up the torn copy of the Symposium and quietly whispered, “Ruth,
I understand. I am going to leave you, you know that don’t you?”
She did not even move, was still asleep. Guilt tore across my heart.
How could I leave? My heart sank past the pit of my guts, and picking
it up, after minutes of quietly watching, I finally climbed into her
bed. Closing my eyes, a kind of reverie followed far different to
hope, though not a pinch like regret. Far different from hope and
regret.
Genevieve
was beside me, looking out over the ocean. Though her hair was blond,
not auburn, and her eyes now blue, the colour of the evening sky over
the ocean.
“Look
at this place we have found ourselves in, it seems familiar. Do you
feel it?”
“Like
you do.” She whispered, quite close to my ear.
“Then
trust it. Let the air in your lungs warm the sun if our love is now
gone.”
Turning
to me, the transformed woman, more memory than apparition, took my
hands and spoke directly into my eyes. “You seem like something
without even heaven.”
“Then
follow me, and speak with the tongue of the earth.”
“I
do love you.”
“I
know.”
“I
do want to marry this earth to our hearts.”
“And
will you?”
“I
am the earth.”
“And
I the sun.”
“Then
we have happened without the sky even falling.”
Particles
floated down over our heads from the heavens. Soft ions and water
filled molecules landed on my shoulders, her hair. Some passed on
through us, settling on the grass, or moved into the earth.
“We
stand, I beside you, beside me our hands touching.”
“As
if some god demanded it long before the day turned long, and the morning
woke us with its smile.”
The
Event
When a young man was given over with love he secured his lady with
a lust for best deeds in many an enterprise and quest, and suffered
at love’s bequest else she was won. She was among the loveliest
given for the sun to shine upon, and came from so high a kind that
he scarce the temerity mind to tell her of his longing and distress.
But in the end she saw his worthiness.
From
the bridal table there was definite depth in the way she looked at
me. I knew that, for it was perceptible from that place where
necks grind, from where the air flows open to when I felt her. And
eyes, as she stood before me in the shadow of a goddess. Her my Odysseus,
telling me that I loved right, that she was loving already. I let
her hand warm me of her feelings. Not so much a warning, than an understanding
of where future earth lies.
This
feeling is consciousness and awake now. Last evening behind me and
life’s meaning is growing. I give up to the image for the heightened
happens. The selection, the movement of neck granite bolder over sand
in the pit and the air that seeps up to my heart. Which why does my
chariot drive? To the house of lust? Yes, and the place of pain and
separation.
Look.
This day I live. All night each train of thought was for her around
turning. Now I am naturally burning. We danced and spoke of love in
our action. Language need not when our bodies continue.
I
love the quiet girl this morning more than ever. She holds the new
born in her belly and glows outward toward me, the mother of a child.
It is relaxation now, a feeling of not wanting to leave her. However
I look I must love, must give all that is inside me. I live in my
poison now that days are largely for needing. An angel told me I would
return engaged from the wedding. I do not know what it is I’ve
become. Following love like a hero in training I have decided to marry.
After drinking magic mushrooms a red pink to my vision did not leave
my liver for years. So imagine my joy when love smote the glow with
a nautical blue. Cross legged in my lounge room thinking of you, knowing
that living (not waiting), will necessarily be enough.