The Wall

stone-retaining-wall-contractor

The love is so intense it consumes you
You breathe it, you bathe in it.
Sometimes it’s excruciating, you stay with it anyway.

Until, with out warning, something changes, in you.
One day, there’s one word, or one phrase
A wall appears between you.

You didn’t build it.
You didn’t even particularly want it there.
But it’s there.

You can’t take it down.
Something just stops you,
From taking out that first brick.

You know if you take out one brick
The entire weight of the wall
Will come down on you and crush you.

The weight of a wall built in secret
One row of bricks at a time, under your nose
You’ve been peering over it.

You didn’t even know.
Until it obscures your vision.
Suddenly you can’t see over it anymore

Or through it. Or around it.
You know what’s on the other side
And all you can do is walk away.

By Deborah E. Dayen

 

Advertisements

An Imperfect Woman

imperfect-woman

If you want me to share my body

then share your life with me.

If you want the touch that thrills,

Tell me your secrets

And listen to mine.

If you want the long slow wet kiss,

Then let me see your spirit.

See mine.

If you want to know me

Then talk to me.

Listen to me.

See me, completely.

Don’t pick and choose

Parts of me to adore

And ignore the rest of me,

Craving your attention.

Don’t judge me.

I’m an imperfect woman,

Flawed and beautiful,

With her heart on her sleeve.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

 

Transcendence

reach-for-me

Reach for me
You, whose face
I cannot yet see,
Find this place.

I wait, in colorful song
To know the beating of your heart.
Wondering, when I will belong
To the one who will be part

Of a life, long dreamed of
Not made manifest
Love rises above
Stories professed

Now, tell me a new one
When your path crosses mine
The story’s begun
It’s transcended time.

Dawn’s Silent Song

dawns-song

There is only the silence of the dawn
Singing gently in my ears.
Singing a song that takes me back
To sweet, and sad, memories,
Early morning coffee and conversation
Wrapped in snugly blankets
To keep winter’s cold off bare skin.

Dawn’s same song says there’s more to come
Different, but loving
Unsure, but hopeful
Sweetness, without the sadness.
A chance to love again.

Sing the song, beautiful dawn.
Lead me to that place of knowing
Help me to find joy from within
And a true lover to share it with.

Hard Night, Beautiful Morning

I slept hard last night. Nightmare, of hate and anger. Displaced, afraid. Real fear that they were coming to get me, and that I would die in their hands. (I don’t know who they were, maybe Nazi’s.  With tanks. And soldiers marching.)  Then, in the dream, I told myself I was dreaming. And that I could combat their hate and anger and fear with love.

I did. I turned the tide, I sent the fear packing, I taught them that they deserved love, and they lay down their arms.

Still, it was a hard and terrifying dream.

Not sure what brought it on. Probably some deep-seated stuff, from the past.

Whatever. This morning I awoke early, around 5:30. My room was cool, I could hear the faint hum of the ceiling fan. I tried to go back to sleep but decided about 20 minutes later that that was not happening. I got up, tried to write, and did, but not sure it’s worthy of publication. I need to re-read and edit.

I decided it was time for me to see the sunrise here in my new hometown. So I quickly got dressed in my bathing suit top, and a skort, and drove the short mile or so to the beach. I parked along the street, as the first rays of dawn broke the sky.

There is a long fishing pier on the beach. I headed down the pier, into the gray and pink early morning light. The pier was dotted with a few fishermen, people walking dogs, people exercising. But not more than a dozen people in all. They all greeted me, everyone, with a “Good morning.”

IMG_2777.JPG

Felt like I was taken into a brother/sisterhood, of people who love the morning. I walked to the end of the pier. I guess it’s maybe 500′ long? I’m a bad judge of distance.

On the way, I passed a gull on the rail, so still I didn’t think it was real. He just watched me as I passed by. Then, a great blue heron flew in and landed on the rail, about 100′ in front of me. As I approached, taking my camera out of my pocket, it flew away.

I got to the end of the pier, and sat on a bench. I was alone. I set my cup of coffee next to me and closed my eyes and just breathed. Tried to take in that this was now my home. Listened to nothing but the sounds of the sea birds, and worked at finding peace again, the remnants of that nightmare still on the fringes of my psyche.

When I opened my eyes again, the sky to the east was breaking dawn. Turning the clouds pink, and gold. It is something I will never tire of, seeing a day come in over the water like that.

IMG_2784.JPG

There were a lot of boats anchored in the bay, many with their dinghies laying in the water behind them, signaling that they were aboard. I thought how lovely a place to anchor out. One boat had two dinghies behind it. I made up a story in my head of people coming from one boat to the other, drinking wine and talking late into the night, too late and too dark to find their way back to their own boat, and staying with friends instead. Like Van Morrison’s song, “So Quiet in Here”. “this must be what paradise is like, so quiet in here….”

After awhile, two women came walking past my bench, and struck up a conversation. One of them had a dog, she did not stay long, her dog was anxious to go. But the other woman and I talked. She’s lived here for 20-something years. She used to live in Philly and Martha’s Vineyard. We talked about the Vineyard, and the breach that happened about 8 years ago in the south beach, and changed the whole nature of Katama Bay, and made Chappaquiddick a real island.

She walks often, she said, so maybe I’ll see her again there. Her name was Mary.

I got up and walked back down the pier Most of the fishermen had gone by then. I walked along the sidewalks, past what says is a casino, but is really a dance hall now, advertising lessons and dancing in fox trot, tango…ballroom dancing, for $8. No partner needed. Might be fun to learn the tango. Outside is a sculpture which says this town is Florida’s best kept secret. I’m beginning to agree. I walked past the permanent beach vollyball courts, and along the beach for a while.

As the town woke up, I headed back home, to record this, my first sunrise here. What a lovely way to start the day. I think it may become a habit.

Love and light.

A Little Gong Introspection

 

longing

Just got home from the gongs, it was lovely as usual.  I was fairly relaxed going in, and may have dosed off for a bit.  Hard to believe with all that sound going on, but it happens.   Not sure if I was sleeping or just somewhere else.

Texted with the new guy a lot today.  There have been no moments, yet, of wondering   “why did he say that?”  Won’t  know if there’s any connection til Saturday.  I’d like to talk to him on the phone, I may tell him that tomorrow.  Idk.  I hope I’m not too outside the box for him, lol.

I was driving home tonight and kept thinking about the weekends I spent with Scott before Betty showed up again in his life.  Sometimes I just don’t understand why he was so quick to give it up.  Even if he wouldn’t let me go, he gave up that time together.  We’d make love before we slept, and when we woke up, then go out on some excursion, and then usually take a nap before I drove home, usually late in the day, and make love once more.  It was sweet, and easy.  Seems like it might have been worth a second thought?  Well, apparently not.   I hope I can find that again with someone.

Gongs make me introspective, help me put things in perspective in my life.  I wasn’t longing for Scott, I was just missing that closeness, with someone. I know who he is.  Maybe I’m longing for the guy he was, then.  I don’t know.  But that guy disappeared, and hasn’t been around for a long long time.

Well, off to bed. love and light.