The Invitation

I feel the stir of rippled wind as it passes over and causes my skin to flame again. This horrid summer is slowly waning.  With deep breaths the world clings on, and the heat lingers long past the time it should be gone. I tried to escape to the mountains two weeks ago. I desperately searched for a new season, hoping it had come sooner in another’s pasture. Instead I encountered an unaltered earth; forests of dense trees and pristine waters slowly trickling by reflecting the evergreen… It was then I discovered that brooks don’t babble, they laugh. I sat upon a quiet blue ridge watching the sunrise, and praying that the newest blades of light would change this condition.… Read the rest...

War

My fingers drew out the lines and traced the address of an office building onto the paper. It’s the only place left that I know to send a letter to my father. The truth being that I do not know where he lives. I do not know the place where he lays down to sleep, or the condition of his rising. I do not know if he is lonely, or if he misses me, or our family. I do not know if he is reading this, or if he is too busy working. I do not know the color of his rented dinner plates.… Read the rest...

I Must

I used to dream of quiet things; of a life stitched together by words and hopes and whispers, or the stillness in an early morning spent alone on a silent path atop a misty mountain. But what would it profit me there, searching my soul and baring my heart to the trees and leaves and songbirds? What would it profit the world? I could pass a day, a month, a year and there would be no sound from my lips to another’s ear. The world would continue on, and I in quiet wonder, would make no mark save a shallow footprint upon an empty, untraveled trail.… Read the rest...

The Making

I turn, slowly surveying this room, trying to glimpse the girl I was before the summer started. Perhaps I’ll catch the shimmer of her skirt as she slipped off into a damp, green field of grass, or the float of her hair held up in the breeze. She was unwise and wild as she stretched her bare feet out onto a lawn of lilac. A simple child, she believed the spring would never end. She is gone now, replaced instead by this storm wearied woman who stands before you secure and unmoving. Winnowed down to the strongest pillars of construction, what remains is but a marble carving, eroded by experience and emotion into something entirely new.… Read the rest...

Boomerang

There are repetitive thoughts that return to me time and time again as I lay here on this couch recuperating. This is downtime I usually do not possess; hours to revel in watching the first timid rays of the day become strange, contrasting afternoon boldnesses casting shadows on the lawn, as well as in my mind.  It must be the recent rains that make me melancholic, or perhaps indeed it is the cocktail of medication prescribed to me.  I should warn you, typing in this mood feels dangerous, and grand. Memories and thoughts sneak into my living room as I rest upon a quilt of saris letting the mingled hours float on with prayer and praise and soft sleep.… Read the rest...