Just another abandoned brownstone

picture credit: http://vikingexposure.deviantart.com/art/Door-of-the-Rusted-Dreams-3085458

A brownstone, abandoned, captures my eye

as the dying rays of the sinking sun

play through ancient and tall oak trees.

A chill in the air now takes my hand

and leads me to the faded green door,

while the leaves are whispering in my ear,

“Open the door... there’s no-one home…”

The musty smell of wandering ghosts meet me on the other side,

those who leave no footprints, yet still brush my arms

in welcome to their old and graceful home.

Wooden floors creak, an echo of movement from years gone by,

whilst spider webs sway from the ceiling like old memories...

A myriad of smudges on the dusty windowpanes

decorate the peeling walls with charming and playful sketches

that are not quite the way you see them now, never the way you thought,

and they cast doubt and fear in the ever deepening night...

The Silence of a Moonless Night

picture credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/silence-311309334

The time has stopped an hour before dawn

and you’re lost in the perpetual silence of a moonless night

that offers no comfort and smothers faith

as the lifeless air steals the breath of hope from the breaking dawn.

Midnight at Noon

picture credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Full-moon-in-the-desert-84484033

The bright silver light of a round full moon

mirrors in the daylight,

through cloud layer thin and muted sound,

a moment'ry of midnight at noon.

How to train your Dragon

picture credit:  http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Smoke-10839153

When the dragon looks at you with its gaze hypnotic, deep,

you can feel the peaceful dream of the freedom numbness heaps,

on your body and your mind as it feeds you with its breath,

taking hold and wanting more of this wanted, timeous death.

 It’s a dragon that won’t go, who demands a part of you,

with each breath he takes a piece of the dream state you once knew,

‘til the craving in you mounts to a thirst you cannot sate,

and you chase the dragon whom you no longer can dictate.

This is when you start to sink into ruins black with mould,

while your addled mind keeps seeking ways to shed this dire hold,

yet the desperation claws, shredding reason, tearing pride

into shards that cut you deep, and the dragon’s back inside.

 'til the night when lightning ripped through the clouds into your soul,

thunder roaring as the dragon fought to keep you in control,

and although I may succumb to the wafting tail tomorrow

for this moment it is I who no longer deigns to follow…

Trapped

picture credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Eye-of-the-Cheshire-Cat-156459546

On a summer’s night full moon it’s the glow of the red light

that captures the stealth of the black cat, as it moves through the shadows

as an unknown entity, the harbinger of the darkness, laced with the tears

of the blood that has fallen with the opening of the door that is white

in its deceitful lie.  A perfect facade that hides the gaping needs of the ones

fated to inhabit this space without the inclination or ability

to escape through the tunnels offered to them by the night...

The tracks

picture credit: http://chousadinisquie.deviantart.com/art/Tracks-148592452

With a sigh I drop down on the soft grass alongside the gravel road, tired from the midday sun and the long walk down the mountainside. I close my eyes, lifting my face so the breeze can catch my hair, and then lean back to rest against the trunk of a tree.  A faint smile plays on my lips, a smile of happiness, no, contentment, intermingled with the pure enjoyment of being where I was right now.  I'd walked away from the darkness that clung to me on the other side of the mountain, down in the valley, in the house with the peeling paint.

There, an oppressing atmosphere of control, desperation and hopelessness prevails the air, the taps shed tears rather than water, and no amount of light and false laughter could lift the cloud that seemed to permanently hover overhead.  I had my share of troubles, as my aunt used to say, be it a mix of teenage rebellion, and the need to escape the bleak surroundings of a house filled with neglect.  I tried it all, being a dutiful daughter, having the right friends, doing what was expected of me. And when that didn’t work, I’d bounded to the other side, where dubious friendships and illicit activities again did nothing to fill the gaping need in my soul.  I blamed myself, but was too young to know any different at the time, and the roads I travelled were full of diversions and distractions.  Yet something kept bringing me back to the same point. To the same decision I hadn’t been ready to make. Until this very morning…

I woke up to the smell of nicotine wafting from the kitchen down the passage into my room, and heard two voices in familiar disagreement with one another, as they have been for as long as I can remember.  How I’d dreamed of waking to the warm rays of the sun, to the smell of coffee or frying bacon, and the gentle murmur of conversation of two parents who were the heart of the family.  But no amount of dreaming could change that which was.  So instead of quietly going about my morning routine, I packed my backpack with clothes instead of books, and rushed out the front door with a hurried “I’m off to school”, probably completely unnoticed, since the voices of disagreement had intensified to a level that did not leave place for anything or anyone else.

Once safely around the corner, I made the call: “Aunt Sabrina, I’m on my way…” which was greeted with a delightful laugh and a “It’s about time”.  Aunt Sabrina, what can I say about her… other than that her world was filled with silver linings, and she has a hug and reassuring smile for even the smallest woe.  She has 2 dogs, she has a cat, she tends her garden that rewards her every year with colourful blooms, fragrant herbs and fruit that bursts with juice when you bite into them.  She runs a guesthouse, where the guests invariably became her friends, and the small town in which she lives resounds with her laughter and never-ending creativity and energy.  The only time I ever see a cloud cross her eyes, is when she talks about my uncle, her husband, dead for many years, taken too early in a freak car accident.  But this too, she lightens by recalling one or other anecdote from their wonderful life together. 

She and my mother, even though they are sisters, are as different as day and night.  She often spoke to my mother, asking her to consider me living with her.  After all, she lived in a small, yet beautiful town, wholesome comes to mind, where fresh air and green meadows would surely cleanse out any troubled teenager.  She was far to diplomatic to insinuate that any “trouble” could be a result of their lack of rules and routine, stemming from their love of alcohol, drugs and wild parties in their younger days, which just escalated to two human beings tolerating each other out of necessity and the unwillingness to change.  My mother was not fazed by this questioning, although she said that the decision would have to be mine.  My father’s reaction, on the other hand, depended on the time of day and the number of substances in his system, although the general outcome was “over my dead body”.  I think he liked to believe the lies he told himself, that we were a happy family living life in difficult times, and that no matter what, we would stick together…  And I too had hope. I hoped for a happy family, a family who shared their sadness and their joy, who supported and depended on one another, who would have holidays at the seaside, share wonderful Christmases and Easter’s together, but that was a lie I no longer could make myself believe.

I awoke with a start to the whistle of a train… just as a butterfly gently brushed my cheek, and I watched it happily dancing its way from wildflower to wildflower. I had dozed off sitting there, midway to the station, alongside the tracks.  The tracks I’d been meant to be on all my life, and not all those side roads I was always so eager to explore.  And even though I knew that staying on this line will not always be easy, I also knew it was the only right way forward.

  

Tranquility

picture credit:  

http://afeinphoto-com.deviantart.com/art/Tranquility-166242342

I wish I could merge with the shadows of the trees,

to observe undetected the day progress

‘til the heavens lay a glittering quilt of dreams

‘cross the undying infinite sky.

And I dream of traveling on the scent of blooms,

dipping and dancing through faraway meadows

while tickling the wings of butterflies

before coming to rest on the polished-glass surface of a blue cold lake.

Slowly I'd sink through the shimmering layers,

as visions of beauty imbue a parade

on my fragile and thirsty soul…

Fade away

picture credit: http://hal-2oo6.deviantart.com/art/Fade-to-gray-111603487

It’s a thundering blow… the air leaves the room… voices slur… colors fade… movements slow… a river roars through my head… I shut my eyes, find my breath, as the sweetest hush fills the air, and it’s here I find you, close and warm, the way you're meant to be…