The Convolution of Many Occurences
I am not proficient in nature speak.
I do not understand the way roses bloom
into beautiful souls
or how the sky cries tears of joy
and sadness
during times of celebration
and despair.
I do not see the lonely trees
of which I am told cry
out desperately as their leaves rot
away and leave
nothing but the barren
naked exterior of their being.
I see the rose as a flower
the sky as a constant
and the tree as a plant.
I am not proficient in nature speak.
Serenity yields
To the unabating presence
Of yearning and desire
Which disseminates quietly
Through unsuspecting veins
And tired nerves
Forcing new will upon old mirth.
In the spirit of Christmas Eve I thought I might try a lighter tone and albeit different read to this poem.
Concede to her mild heart
She knows not what she speaks
Acquit her selfish ways
She acts in judicious fashion
Forgo those thoughts you aggrandize
She deserves a second chance
Happy Holidays to everyone and may your New Year be filled with positive thoughts and hope!
She so innocent and beautiful in appearance bares one flaw that can not be overlooked
Delusional thoughts
Run amuck her effete brain
With whispered intent
Of deceitful ambition
And will for tribulation
But you so torn by realistic pretense and hope for happier ending find glimpses of solace in her nasty words
“So I have this theory,” I started, the silence too much for me to take any more.
“Oh yea, what’s that?,” he asked, barely looking over at me as we came to a red light.
“Well, you know how I was a hippo in my past life?” That got his attention. I nearly choked on my water watching his eyes jerk towards me, his mouth open in disbelief.
“You were what?,” he questioned at last.
“A hippo. I was a hippo in my past life and Lacey, you know Lacey right, she was a lion. But somehow we became friends in our past lives and now look, we’re best friends as humans in this life. The weird part though, is that we both remember. Obviously not everything-”
“Obviously.”
“But we remember enough,” I continued. “We remember meeting each other and just the fact that we were animals in our past lives. But most people don’t remember. So I’ve always wondered why they can’t remember, you know? Like you, why can’t you remember? What makes me different?”
“Ah well, I can think of a few reasons you might be different,” he scoffed.
“Very funny,” I said, “But I’m being serious.”
“Oh, I know,” he said. “That’s what worries me.”
“No really, listen. I can remember, bits and pieces of the past. I don’t know why I was a hippo or why Lacey was a lion, but for some reason we were and now look at us, friends as humans.”
“So you have a theory?”
“Oh yea,” I smiled. “So my theory is that we did something in our past that we need in the future, that’s why we can remember. Because it’s not like I can remember all of my past lives, just the last one.”
“So you’re telling me that in your past life you were a hippopotamus and you did something so important that now you, as a human, need?”
“Yea, like I realized something or helped someone in the past and now I need to figure out what that was, in this life.”
“Why can’t you remember what you’re suppose to remember then? Why just be able to remember some of the past but not the important parts?”
“Oh I don’t know, because what would the point of this life be if I could remember everything already? Then this life would be too easy, all the fun would be gone.”
“No fun,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I just thought of it and I wanted to say it out loud, to see if it clicked.”
“And did it click?”
“I don’t know, I guess. Maybe.” I wavered, my confidence faltering with each word I added. “I guess I’d just be nice to know I had a purpose, to know that I had something to do in this life, that I was here for a reason. That’s what Dr. Gaulmeyer told us today- to find a purpose, a reason for wanting to live.”
“So your first thought was about past lives as hippos and lions?”
“Well, I really do believe I was a hippo in my past life, but my theory, well that just kinda came to Lacey and I. It was mostly her, really. But then I remembered the hippo stuff so I thought maybe it could be true.” We pulled up to my driveway and he stopped the car, turning to look at me.
“You have a purpose Mel, you have a reason to be here, I promise. But I don’t think it has anything to do with remembering your past life. Maybe you were a hippo-” he grimaced as he ceded to those words- “but your purpose is not determined by that, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, I suppose you’re right.”
“Good,” he said. “So I’ll be by to pick you up, same time tomorrow, right?”
“Would you mind coming a few minutes earlier?,” I asked, “Lacey and I were going to grab coffee before the session.”
“Lacey, huh? Does Dr. Gaulmeyer think it’s a good idea for you to be talking to Lacey?”
“Of course, she’s my best friend! He even moved her to the same support group as me,” I said. “Oh yea, I was suppose to tell you, Dr. Gaulmeyer wants me to do two sessions a week now, and one group therapy meeting. He said to tell you he thinks it will be good for me- adding a group session.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “Can you just send me the times, so I have them all straight and I don’t forget?”
“Of course.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow Mel.”
“Bye Ethan.” I waived as I climbed out of the car.
“Thank you,” I called. Sometimes I forgot to say it, but I hoped he knew. He must know, how grateful I was for all the car rides, all the late nights. He knew. But I’m sure he still liked to here it every once in a while. So I called out even though I knew he couldn’t here me.
“You’re the best brother a girl could ask for.” I knew that always made him happy, forgetting the “step”. We were family, even if our blood said otherwise.
And he had- remembered. Two months later and he hadn’t forgotten; 7-6-17. Forever the patient one and I the worrier as he sat waiting for me at the beach. He carried his box of memories in a backpack, right down to the edge of the sand dune, just as I carried mine; in preparation for their burial. Their burden too much for us to walk very far.
“Right here,” I had told him, holding out my phone so he could read the the numbers, moonlight bouncing off the screen and into his eyes. How familiar. 25.7907° N, 80.1300° W they read. “They’re lucky numbers, I promise.”
“Alright,” he grinned, “if you say so.”
“Don’t mock,” I said, “just you wait and see. They’re lucky.”
“Hey, if it means I don’t have to walk anymore, they seem perfect to me.” I laughed, before the distant sound of a siren cut me off.
“Shit,” I whispered, “you think the cops are coming for us?”
“Nah,” he said, “but if they are we’ll just say we didn’t see the ‘no trespassing sign’. I’m sure people miss it all the time.”
“I’m being serious,” I said. “You think they’re really coming for us?”
“No Liza, calm down. We aren’t even close to the water and it’s not like we’re doing anything illegal”- he paused- “well besides the whole trespassing thing, but we’re just digging.”
“Oh yea, and I’m sure when people say, ‘sorry officer I was just swimming at 2am’ they love that answer too- harmless right?” I bit my tongue, but couldn’t help from asking again.
“So they’re not coming for us?” He laughed.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Alright,” I said, “I’m trusting you.” He looked up from the phone screen and at me.
“Good,” he said. I grinned.
“So right here then?” he asked, pointing to the large mound of sand in front of us.
“Yup.” I handed him a shovel. It took us about an hour to dig our holes, probably because he kept throwing sand back in mine, but I didn’t mind. The crashing waves were a sound that couldn’t be replicated. The delicate rhythm they provided as we dug further and further into the ground was surreal- inviting of the future and all the challenges yet to come. The waves were resilient. Crashing and receding, crashing and receding- not caring that with each crash they would fall back, consumed by the rest of the water only to hurl itself forward once more. A cycle that never ended. But was it so bad if you didn’t mind, I wondered, to get stuck in the same routine if you enjoyed it?
“How does it look?” he asked me. I stopped digging, realizing I hadn’t really been paying attention for a while now.
“Good, really good. I think my box should fit. What about yours?”
“Yea,” he said, “yea I think so.” He pulled out a brown packing box from his backpack and placed it in the ground; ‘Property of Dylan Baldwin. To be opened in the presence of Liza Core.’ it read. I took off my backpack and unzipped the pocket, pulling out my box. It was heavy. I put my backpack back on and noticed how much lighter it felt now- without all those memories weighing it down. I put my box on the ground too, in the hole I had just dug next to his. ‘Property of Liza Core. To be opened in the presence of Dylan Baldwin (remember to kick his ass if he opens it before you)’ my box read. He read the label too.
“Nice.” He smirked.
“What?” I grinned. “I wanted to cover all my bases.”
“Oh sure,” he said. We were silent for a moment then.
“So this is it,” I said. “We cover them up now?”
“This is it,” he replied, “time to cover them up.”
“Wait, I just thought of this. Should we date them? Like with today’s date, so that we can remember.”
“Oh true, that’s a good idea.”
“Here.” I pulled out a marker from my back pocket and handed it to him. He leaned down and wrote 7-6-21 in big, bold letters on the bottom of the box, then handed back the marker and I did the same.
“There,” I said, “now we will remember.”
“Now we will remember.”
“And you have the coordinates, right?”
“Yup.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and showed me the numbers. “I wrote them down right here.”
“Alright,” I said, “here goes nothing.” I picked up my shovel and tossed some sand back on top of his box. “Time to cover them up.”
And just like that our memories were buried, hidden with each bucket-full of dirt we threw over them; hidden but not forgotten. Even the waves seemed quieter now, like they too were mourning our loss of remembrance, or at least acknowledging a change in us both. No longer would I have the musty, one eyed stuffed dog that put me to sleep on countless restless nights- I was not an adult who had a stuffed animal. No more would I be able to write in the journal I was gifted at age 12, its cover nothing more than a bound piece of cardboard, each page hanging loosely by a string, just waiting for the right moment to fall loose, but still- you are a good writer, my teacher had said, maybe you’ll consider continuing to write. Maybe it was time for a new journal. The thought made me uneasy- too much blank space to fill, so much emptiness. So much emptiness to cover, so many blank pages to fill- so the journal went in my box. It’s words left to be read another day.
“We’ll be back,” he said once the boxes were covered.
“I know,” I said as I looked up at him, before realizing he wasn’t talking to me. But he didn’t seem to notice as he stared down at the pile of sand, tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away with one quick jerk of a hand and grabbed mine with the other.
“Tattoos?”
“Tattoos.”
25.7907° N, 80.1300° W they read.
This house was built with three in mind
Though you~ so averse to change
Have let us wither and wallow in angst
And now I must relocate
Listen to the creaks of my diaphanous bed
As I writhe beneath its cotton sheets.
Evading sleep with a wandering mind
Which floats above the lustrous stars.
Today I thought I might try something new and embark on a flash fiction challenge. The prompt was as follows:
November 30, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes self-care. Does the character need it? What does the character do? Think about how you can use this action to deepen a character or move a story. Go where the prompt leads.
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/12307624/posts/1684000263
Please enjoy my first attempt at a 99 word story!
“Brogan, what are you doing here? Have you been admitted again? The other nurses told me you were doing well.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just-”
Suddenly Sarah’s door flung open and she came wobbling out, carefully pulling her IV poll behind her.
“Hi Brogan!,” Sarah squeaked, “I can’t believe it’s been a week already! It feels like you were just here.”
“Well I wrote a new song I’ve just been dying to sing with someone. And look, I brought Elf and popcorn! I thought we could have a movie night this time.”
Unpredictable Affairs 