my tomorrow came when today arrived… for yesterday I waited on a day that I hadn’t seen… hoping that if and when it does come around… there will be the light of change.
my tomorrow is here yet my thoughts ain’t truly there… for how can it be when in fragmented pieces… I watch…
as we laid your body down and you crossed the bridge
to the other side
the airy wind blew it’s gentle breeze around us, it flowed
to the other side
a lone tear escaped my eyes racing to my mouth
I had promised that I would stop crying
but the calmness of the air reminds of your gentle ways
when will we see you again, if ever, my heart is pained.
For you my dear friend – departed – I wish not to say. May your soul find rest after all the pain. May you know peace and may your wings continue to flap gently in the wind. I see your smile. Though we know that none of us will get out of here alive, that death is part of life, yet, its sting is never lessened.
Following the rolls, cadence and sway of the beat…
searching through the fog in her mind…
ruminating for hope, for joy, for comfort, for deliverance…
The music conjured up emotions lost, but never forgotten…
a balm…
a yearning…
a homecoming…
The chords emitted from the strings of the violin,
its melody soothingly tender yet desperate…
dragging over the strings of her battered and bruised soul
making notes that holds in its promise,
a fulfillment…
a redemption…
peace.
Have you ever felt such attachment to any music that it draws out emotions that finds you struggling for the right words to describe how exactly it makes you feel? I know that sometimes such emotions are raw that we feel as if sharing them with someone else exposes our nakedness, vulnerability and inner privacy.
I grew up in a home with a dad who woke us up most mornings with the melodious flow of sounds of music from the Grundig turntable that had its pride of place in our living room and I grew up learning to appreciate all forms of musical sounds. Many a times, especially nowadays, a track transports me decades back to specific moments in time and I allow the memories trapped in my minds’ eye to dance to the tune.
her expectations as mistress aren’t going anywhere
he steals into her chamber in the cover of the dark
silently, he leaves in the wee hours of light
lonely, her heart never knows respite
our expectations become the mistress of life
guiding us from shore to shore
from here to anywhere
we keep sailing.
It’s fun to take part in challenges again. I came across the ‘Three Things Challenge on Pensivity101’s blog‘ and decided to give it a go just to get the writing juices flowing again.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 