Sunday, November 22, 2009

having courage does not mean that you are unafraid.

Song: Running to Stand Still – U2
“Being unafraid does not mean an absence of fear”

The horizon is bleak where I used to see splashes of pink and orange. A wilting tree in the place of a rose. A flock of birds, that are as free as I wish to be. The expansive land stretches before me, filled with wasted opportunities.

‘Come inside, I made tea’

And so she woke up
Woke up from where she was
Lying still
Said I gotta do something
About where we're going 

The tears that cling hopelessly to my eyelashes are tears of longing. They fall from my cheeks onto my pale legs, curled up beneath me, hiding me from the world. My hope.  lost. My love is forgotten. And my trust is forever left behind. Conversation washes over me, I nod, I laugh, I shake my head in disbelief, but inside, I am just a girl, empty.

Step on a steam train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night
Singing Ha, Ah La La La De Day
Ah La La La De Day
Ah La La De Day

A shadow is standing in front of what is left of the sun. I can see her hair whipping around her face, my face. I am reflected in her, people say. A mirror image. Her hair, her perfect hourglass figure. And I hate it all, for putting me in touch with a reality that I cannot bear. It says that I am home, that I belong to a place that I want to escape.

Sweet the sin
Bitter taste in my mouth
I see seven towers
But I only see one way out

‘I’m fine’ I say, the same as every night. The light in the kitched represents a hope that I am always searching for, but can never gain. A place of refuge in a world of hurt. A place that I’m not ready for yet.

You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice

I’m fine. I’m fine. I keep telling myself.  I hear the leaves crackling under her feet, as she turns back, defeated. I tell myself that I am strong, strong for not grieving, strong for hiding from the world.  I am just pushing her away. I want to be alive, but I can’t let go.  A part of me longs for those moments of sweeping glimpses of myself in the shop windows, in the back of the metal pouring jug. Because in my glassy green eyes, I see him. I see our connection.

You know I took the poison
From the poison stream
Then I floated out of here

I remember the times when we used to sit outside together and I would catch glimpses of his smile underneath all the worry. I remember his ways of telling me he loved me. And  so I feel an arm curl around my shoulders, the weight is almost uncomfortable

Singing...Ha La La La De Day
Ha La La La De Day
Ha La La De Day

‘Honey, is something wrong?’

I try and nod, but it would be a lie, I have tried to live, but it has been a vase, empty of flowers, waiting to be filled by something that is not real. Everything is wrong. Can’t he understand that? Everything is. .

Maybe he sees the tears, maybe he feels the shudder of my shoulders, maybe my heart being torn apart, but I am safe in his arms once again, and this time I’m not letting go. 

‘Move on sweetie, move on. Only look back when the view is good.'

I can feel the stubble on his chin, it is rough against my check. His chest is in sync with mine, and we beat as one. 

She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea

A forever moment, I sit there with the warmth of his body surrounding me.  I remember. I remember saying painful goodbyes and heartfelt hello’s. I remember arguing over the dishes, and making welcome home signs. I remember teasing, laughing.

She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will…

‘Be good. Be strong, love’

Suffer the needle chill
She is running to stand


The patch of grass that never deflated under his weight, the warmth of his body that never comforted mine. I was alone. Again, I look at the horizon, but this time, I see a single dove fly across, its flying home. I am ready to jump, to fly.

I have to be strong.  For being unafraid does not mean an absence of fear, it means having the extraordinary ability to not care.

that was my english story, and i trust you guys to give me real feedback. 
i am thinking of just scratching it and starting again on a different story
your thoughts? I think it might be too angsty. Hm. 


yesterday, me and a friend, we forgot who we where, and for over half an hour we raced our magnum sticks down the gutters. we looked back to see how far we had raced them, must have been around five hundred metres or so? this is in the pouring rain mind you. it was actually so much fun. forgetting you are, becoming a child again, its really what life is all about isn't it? letting go. being free. 

all my love,

it is heavily raining here in the land of catherine, and i am loving it. 


kimmy said...

dont stratch the story weirdo. as if you could be stuffed :P

Carolyn said...

:O Don't scratch the story, it really is very lovely!

sabine cara said...

lovee the story, you have some skill woman.

but agreed; very angsty. but of course if thats what you're going for then so be it

xx scarzz

Erimentha said...

i love the story!

be brave and dont scratch it!


JSotiriou said...

"Because in my glassy green eyes, I see him. I see our connection.."
dont even think of scratching it. it really spoke to me and i believe to many others
keep writing, PLEASE :D

Kipa said...

Wow. Amazing. Really powerful words. You shouldn't scratch it, it's too good.

مى said...

I love the story! Don't you dare change it! You inspired me today. Thank you.


Loz said...

Was there a theme that you had to include in your story or anything?
Anyway it was really good and as everyone said, don't scratch it!
I love the rain!
It was so good.