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Archive for October, 2010

waiting for the sun

It was a day of racing hearts and waiting by the phone.

A man pulled up in a yellow jeep.

I hid in my room and pressed my ear to the cold floor

muffled voices rose up from beneath me

he was looking for the flaws in our home

I imagined the house collapsing around him

I would through my head back and laugh at the irony.

We sipped coffee and shifted uncomfortably in our chairs.

When would this end?

would they still want the house when the flaws had been photographed and lain out on a bundle of stapled papers?

What if they didn’t?

then what would we do?

the questions loomed in our minds

Mum prayed and asked for positive thoughts

we all waited

the sun set and the moon rose up in the sky

still the questions loomed

Two days before, I photographed a rainbow in the sky.

“the storm is over” I sang in my head

I repeated it today over and over trying to make it true. And the weather agrees, no more wind, no more rain.

the storm IS over

however clouds still loom like the questions in our minds

so we just wait

in this roomy house

look out the windows and watch for the clouds to clear

the sun will shine through

just holding on here.

praying for a sunny tomorrow.


fishbones

(necklace handcrafted by me, view more of my jewelry at owlmeetsfairy.etsy.com)

A can opener punctures the tin can, a thick fishy smell escapes and floats around the main floor. It swarms puppy, deep in slumber on a corduroy armchair.

Stretch and leap down. Nails on hardwood make a click, click, click, tail wags and she scampers beneath the dining room table.

Mom is above, picking small white pieces from fleshy pink salmon. Puppy licks her snout, wetting black whiskers, mum pulls a bone from the fish and places it in a small pile.

Bones: small, smooth and white.

Like the bones that frame the hollow girl, struggling for life in a steam filled room. Wrapped in a fuzzy pink towel and lying on the floor.

Her hair wet and pasted to her forehead, Eyelids blue, all she sees is black.

The bones are ugly, she feels them jut out in every direction. Each vertebrae a protruding lump.

The girls reaches for the door, but she can’t get up.

The brass handle moves higher and higher, stretching away from her grasp.

Sniffing wildly, puppy follows her moist black nose up to the tabletop and rests front legs up on a nearby chair.

The girl rises to her knees, tries to grimace from the pain but her face can not muster up the strength. Hollow eyes focused on the door handle, she takes a deep breath and raises an arm.

Puppy wriggles legs, then tummy up onto a solid wood chair. Mum picks fish with intent, thoughts on the hollow girl. How she can fill her. Where she can find enough love to bring colour back to her face. How she longs to see her pretty hair curled and worn down. To see the lashes on those veiny eyelids flutter with delight.

With a soft grip thin fingers clasp around a cold brass handle.

Puppy hops up onto table top and starts into the bowl, the smell ever so strong now.

Startled, mum’s thoughts interrupted and left to hang in the air.

Shoe! puppy scrambles, Crash and clatter, salmon and black fur on the floor

Bones on the floor.

The bathroom door opens and steam pour out.

 

(post is fiction, based on a true story. I wrote it for my writing course. I was inspired to post this by emily’s request to help with a radio interview to help in promoting her book: Chasing Silhouettes )

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second-hand vehicles

time slips through my fingers

I try to flatten frizzy hair with clips and pins

my eyes show weariness from a long week of lost sleep.

of whispering “who will buy our house?” in the deep dark of the night.

He brought us a family

who speak a foreign tongue

the children work and the mother ties her hair up in a bonnet.

they dress up in hand-me-downs and drive past our windows in a second hand vehicle.

They are the family we prayed for, circled together in the kitchen, one afternoon.

I balm my chapped lips and look about my room, growing larger as it empties out.

soon this it will be empty then filled with another’s belongings

but it is not such a sad thought

because I know it is your will

and I know the house will be loved

a great deal of lessons will be taught here as they learn to own a house for the first time.

I whisper prayers into walls

walls that will protect this lovely family

“they will buy it” you whisper back to me


red flannel


they’ll freeze their roots off

my fingers are cold and I drink tea all day

My plants now live inside

shivering on the top shelf of my bookcase

I sewed a hooded flannel to keep me cozy warm

said my prayers at bedside

and snuggled into my quilt.


singing and swinging:one day we’ll touch the heavens

A giggle  of delight escaped her, she flung her brown hair back and looked up to see my reaction. Her eyes glittered and a smile stretched across her face.

We were playing school with felt giraffes and stuffed owls.

on the cold floor in the yellow room

a small pocketed quilt lay out at our feet

she impressed me with her knowledge of math and division, she must have learned from mum.

mum was teaching her now

soft voice flowing down the hall, mixed with steam and the smell of dove soap

mum was praising him, the steady stream of water making harmony with her melody, humbly lifting her voice to the heavens.

even in this storm of lightning bolt decisions and thunder clouds of blurred vision

my mother praised him, she thanked him

she let him now she was ‘his daughter.’

I remember this lesson as we swung on swings in the afternoon sun

giggling the same delighted giggle

this time laughing at brother with long legs twisted in a child’s toy bouncing back and forth

gangly and awkward

I remember how sister had shown us what she had learned moments before we left our house

In those moments she had brought us back to the father

we joined in a circle in the kitchen and prayed,

prayed for guidance

prayed for the family

we swang

i thought on this,

I pointed my toes to the heavens

and felt mums song swishing around my moccasins


spinning hope

a spider spins hope into a web on a white wall

a girl with three bracelets on her wrist types away on her keypad

a mother frets in the next room, brain working overtime

while husband snores beside her, tired from his long commute.

a child soon becoming girl, young woman, spins and dances

trying to find routine in chaos

tonight they will tuck her into a weighted quilt so that she does not float away

downstairs a young man is dreaming, his abstract mind twirling and looping, trying to embelish the fear deep within so that its easier to look at.

the clock on the wall ticks away

but the hands don’t move

tomorrow a family will walk these halls look in the rooms

look at the yard and see if there’s room to garden

if they are ready for change

the spider

so small on the wall

makes a web out of the smallest spool, threads dispensed from the tiniest hole in his bottom

makes a BIG and beautiful web

he’s spinning hope

he starts with the smallest amount and watches it grow

the clock ticks away

the hands will not move until the web is complete.