How will I get back?
If I should dare begin
a descent
into the darkness of memory;
who will be there
to pull me back?
If I become lost
as I have been lost before?
I am scared to feel this;
I want to be brave,
brave enough to share
a journey that began gently, silently.
The memory really, really hurts.
My tears flood the page,
bile burns the back of my throat.
I feel my head throb.
My arms, heavy weights.
Too heavy to lift my pencil.
"I walked fast and faster.
I ran and ran.
I ran very far, very fast.
If only I could run fast enough
I could run past myself;
turn around,
and meet myself running up the road;
and in that moment,
I could make everything right again.
Then I realized...there was no before..."
Evangeline.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
For all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent or the fountain,
from the red cliff of the mountain,
from the sun that round me rolled
In it's autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Allan Poe
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
For all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent or the fountain,
from the red cliff of the mountain,
from the sun that round me rolled
In it's autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Allan Poe
Saturday, August 30, 2008
every tragedy needs a witch,
someone to blame
i am the witch
i am sad for her and sorry for you,
i think it odd you consider yourselves
such dear friends of his
suicide or murder, it is all just talk
you have your paintings, bits and pieces
she has her anger and the name
i am going away and i have the most
i have his love
which he showered upon me
and i have his eternal soul
which he willing gave me
so squabble and talk
till your tongues stiffen
for i am gone with my beloved
and i pity the 4 of you
i bless you for this heartless attack on me
i bless you for the renewal of the same
let it be said then that
i am the witch in this tragedy
wolfgang is free now and
i will watch over him forevermore
Evangeline
someone to blame
i am the witch
i am sad for her and sorry for you,
i think it odd you consider yourselves
such dear friends of his
suicide or murder, it is all just talk
you have your paintings, bits and pieces
she has her anger and the name
i am going away and i have the most
i have his love
which he showered upon me
and i have his eternal soul
which he willing gave me
so squabble and talk
till your tongues stiffen
for i am gone with my beloved
and i pity the 4 of you
i bless you for this heartless attack on me
i bless you for the renewal of the same
let it be said then that
i am the witch in this tragedy
wolfgang is free now and
i will watch over him forevermore
Evangeline
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Dream
"In visions of the dark night
I have dream'd of joy departed —
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken hearted..."
Edgar Allan Poe
I have dream'd of joy departed —
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken hearted..."
Edgar Allan Poe
Tower
To be loved by him is to be complete.
My heart is overflowing with memories,
satin and silk and softest cashmere,
obscure moments in hidden corners,
beds of damp green moss in the woods,
I offered that which he asked of me;
to believe in him, to be near,
to yield to his desire..
I am so cold.
I abandoned him in his love of me.
Fiercely jealous;
I felt I gave him no cause.
Am I to tread the streets alone?
To stand at the'end of the world'
where first he kissed my hand?
Where is the comfort of my stone tower now?
How proud and aloof I have been;
with my moral holier than thou code.
I deny myself seeing his body one last time,
I yearn to be tormented till my last breath...
for him to stand behind me,
evermore
out of reach,
would be kinder even,
than the empty coldness that entombs me...
My soul cries for his company...
I will not seek, I do not deserve
nor do I wish for relief in my wretchedness.
Yesterday I walked in the cold wet wind,
my velvet coat unbuttoned,
my silk blouse damp with rain,
I was numb with cold and felt alive.
I know now, I will always be cold.
Evangeline
My heart is overflowing with memories,
satin and silk and softest cashmere,
obscure moments in hidden corners,
beds of damp green moss in the woods,
I offered that which he asked of me;
to believe in him, to be near,
to yield to his desire..
I am so cold.
I abandoned him in his love of me.
Fiercely jealous;
I felt I gave him no cause.
Am I to tread the streets alone?
To stand at the'end of the world'
where first he kissed my hand?
Where is the comfort of my stone tower now?
How proud and aloof I have been;
with my moral holier than thou code.
I deny myself seeing his body one last time,
I yearn to be tormented till my last breath...
for him to stand behind me,
evermore
out of reach,
would be kinder even,
than the empty coldness that entombs me...
My soul cries for his company...
I will not seek, I do not deserve
nor do I wish for relief in my wretchedness.
Yesterday I walked in the cold wet wind,
my velvet coat unbuttoned,
my silk blouse damp with rain,
I was numb with cold and felt alive.
I know now, I will always be cold.
Evangeline
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Non-intervention
"I never think I am the one
who must see to it
that cherries grow on stalks.
I stand and behold,
admiring what nature can do."
Jung
who must see to it
that cherries grow on stalks.
I stand and behold,
admiring what nature can do."
Jung
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