Is this poetry or blood that I feel coursing through my veins??
I long to feel you once more, curled deep inside my shape the way wet sand holds a shell. I wake to find you gone. Mere dream or memory. But where you once were, your faint spiral impression still stains my pillow and shore.
I rise, try carefully not to wake the house, foolishly forgetting for a moment that I live alone. In the dim light, photographs of distant friends line the top of my piano. Dust coats glass, but not the smiles & memories trapped underneath.
There are tiny, silent ghosts living (in only ways ghosts can live) in-between these black & white keys. But sadly, no amount of pleading or savings can conjure up a piano-tuner during level four lockdown.
I close the lid in an attempt to capture the ghosts for another time. But, even in the dark, I can still faintly hear their beauty, as they quietly move about and compose; a little like tinnitus, the hum of fridge or a hot water cylinder rumble.
I long instead for the comfort & familiarity of birdsong. But it’s a long wait until dawn. My clock on my mobile reads 11:11. And, for now, that brings me the solace I seek.
Perhaps it does for you, too?
Stepping outside, the night air is so still I can hear my heart beat beat beating in my ears. Earlier, I felt guilty for squandering the first day of Spring. So now, while the rest of the world sleeps, I can savour (instead) the season’s first night. In the dark, I can just make out the faint blur & glow of daffodils along the fenceline. My feet start walking towards them.
Glancing skyward, I stop. The stars warmly greet me. From this earth-bound perspective, they are many. And reassuringly close together. And for a moment, I feel less alone. I remind myself that, up there, they are coldly distant from one another. Not close at all, despite all the songs they sing & stories they share with one another. Billions upon billions of soul-like suns... Being born, humming, dancing, burning, collapsing, dying; but desperately, disarmingly and coolly unaware of each others’ heat.
I feel sad. I shudder. Not from the cold but longing. For a fleeting moment I force myself to remember your forehead pressed against mine. Not so much skin on skin but soul on soul. I still believe this, even now. Fingers that perfectly interlocked. Limbs & lips & sex that all effortlessly became one.
I blink, return to the present moment. Mere seconds (or perhaps thousands of years) have passed. I wipe away a solitary tear, try to refocus on the stars. They seem a little sharper now, appear almost to shimmer and swing. From a distance, yet still so close.
From a distance, you’re still so close.
I open my mouth & inhale star-cold air. And with it, you. I can feel the cosmic swell as it quickly fills my lungs. Holding my breath, I speak out loud the word “wonderful”... Even without your accent, I can feel its perfect syllables. They roll and tumble about inside my mouth and against my teeth & tongue. I exhale. Slowly. Deliberately. I smile. A smile I feel deep within my very soul. I am still grateful. That it happened. That you happened. That I happened upon you. And that we happened.
I close my eyes. Seeing by intuition alone, I reach down in the darkness. My fingers gently close around a stem. Like only the colour green can feel, it is damp to the touch. Gently, quickly, I pluck a solitary golden daffodil. I raise it toward my face. Yellow fills my vision. I hold it closely to my nose and breathe in deeply of its earthy scent and ancient song...
In this tiny moment, I am (again) truly alive. Starlight and dust burn inside my chest, my poorly vision turning to gold. For this is not poetry or blood coursing through my veins...
...but constellations!!
(c)Brent M Harpur
28/8/2021.
"Your vision becomes clear when you look inside your heart. Who looks outside, dreams.
Who looks inside, awakens." Carl Jung
