Friday, 18 September 2015

Acceptance

      “You tried to kill me,” Josie said, and she could tell that she had the Minister’s complete attention now; it was as if he had become deaf to the sounds of battle around them.  In some ways she felt deaf to them, too, but Josie was no fool—she knew exactly what her grandfather was.  Yet at the same time she understood what he had gone through.  He was no monster.  He was just a man, made bitter and cold by the tragedies of life.  The day her father stepped through the Last Window, he had put into motion a chain of events he never could have anticipated—and he had caused those who loved him unbelievable pain.  That sort of pain Josie had seen in herself, along with her mother and Jack.  In the face of such agony even good people could stumble.  For that reason, Josie said quietly, “I forgive you.”




Doodles of the Disturbed Mind, again


November 30, 2006
The fire in the corner
the hole in the universe
please don't hurt me


Thursday, 17 September 2015

Empty


do you see where eternity ends
did you know that you were my friend
this planet a box that holds me

A Window to the World


September 21, 2003, California

It should be about her life here as much about her experiences there.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

A misunderstanding



When I lost my travel book centuries ago
burned the ancient forest where
you were my favorite tree
You are the reality I cannot close in on
what flew through my hair that I
             mistook for permanency          




Tomorrow is Crying for You (Pt. 5)

I woke still tucked between the sweaters, and still, to my disappointment, very tiny.  A quick check confirmed the presence of fairy wings.   I risked a small peek outside of the drawer, but nothing in the room had changed.  The lamp glowed softly, the faded flower-printed covers of the double bed remained untouched.
As I emerged from the drawer I realized I had no idea how long I’d slept.   The endless twilight had not given way to dawn—it never did.  That hadn’t seemed to matter the other times I’d visited, but now it left me cold.  I wanted to know how long I’d been in this room—or at least to believe that the clock was ticking down on this fairy fantasy, and that soon I would wake up somewhere else.
Try as I might, though, I could find no clock.  In low spirits I left the room, the quiet now beginning to stifle me.  Yet it seemed unwise to make my own noise, so I flew in almost total silence back to the restaurant, hoping to discover Marietta this time.



Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Diary entry, March 2014

But I can’t.  I can’t because I'm afraid.  The stories come to me in dreams and haunt me.  They refuse translation.  I am afraid.  I don’t want anyone to know me.  I don’t want anyone to know anything.  I don’t want to know myself.