Saturday, February 28, 2015

Rain on a Window

Like rain on a window, my smile has melted away. Joy and hope have alighted from my heart and spiraled away, perhaps in search of you.

For the heart, you see, is indignant of boundaries, and so the constraints of our circumstances never mattered when it came to what matters most.

Loving you.

Just as I understood that this love would endure well beyond the walls of this lifetime, so too did it transcend any other walls. That we could not lie down together at the end of the day; that we could see each other but rarely; that we could not bring about the life of our dreams--all of this pressed upon us but even so could not suppress the love in my heart which still rose up--rises up--over and above and through all walls and is immortal and at the end of the day what nobler dream exists than love eternal?

A sacred bond but you are gone and my love still rises but is met with silence and my days are dark and each my longest, until the next. I mourn but even this loss, this pain is but another wall and cannot vanquish my truth. In one year, ten or  fifty--or into lifetimes beyond--always remember you may find in me open arms and safe harbor. My heart beats on for you, forever and always-- steady--like rain on a window. 

Friday, February 20, 2015

Like the Oak

Like letters carved upon an oak, his truth was etched upon his heart. The truth of her, she with whom his heart was inscribed, she to whom his heart had been wholly given. The love of his life.

That she fell away from him like leaves from the oak did not alter this truth in the slightest. The imprint only deepened, and when--unlike the oak whose leaves return in spring--she did not return, his heart hardened like the oak itself, save for this imprint, this truth, which cut deeper with each passing day.

He thought of her ceaselessly, unflinchingly prepared to welcome her back with an open heart and open arms but she did not come, and the silence bled out before him like an endless, empty road. He wrote to her, sang for her, bled for her and it was truth but each word rang out into the darkness, carried away on the wings of silence, like the winds which made the oak tremble on frigid nights.

In the silence he imagined what her words might be. Things are better this way, she'd surely say. You are better off without me. I turn from you, and answer only in silence so that you may forget me, so that you may move on and heal. 

"And if that is the narrative of which you've convinced yourself, and which brings you some measure of peace," whispered the man to no one, "then I am glad.

It is, of course, but fiction."

His words floated away into the darkness, and the cold winds swept over him and he trembled like the oak, but like the oak he stood, trembling but deeply-rooted. 


"What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?" Queen

Monday, February 2, 2015

News "Flash"

Pleased to announce my flash fiction work, "Save Room for Epilogue," has been published in the Carbon Culture Review. It's on the upper limits of flash, nearly 1000 words, and has something of a futuristic/fantasy touch, anchored by a literary theme. Was fun to write; hope you enjoy!