For thirteen days and nights he searched. Brought down by the cold wind and rain lashing at his tormented face. Tears of distress and agony streamed down his aging face as he searched. Day in and day out, never getting closer. Her last words stuck in his mind permanently. “Don’t follow me”, yet he followed. Like a stray dog searching for his master, he followed. Never giving in, never backing down. He remembered the way the light would catch her eyes as she looked at him. Those gold and sapphire glinting eyes were all that kept him going. Yet, there they were, staring, 40 yards away. She was there. He sprinted toward her, abruptly running into an elderly woman. She ran crying in distress, she could not bear to see him again. He ran to catch her, gliding across the marble floor as if floating chasing a dream. She continued to flee running from her past. His pained tormented face turned into that of a desperate, crazed man, dead set on what he wanted. She slid around the corner to the glorious safe haven, the bathroom. She ran in, bolted the door shut, and slid down the wall crying. A wave of relief flowed over her cleansing her from her grief and memories of the past. Her ears pricked as she heard the breath of a man standing over her. Darkness flooded her mind and senses. She was in limbo trapped in her own thoughts and memories, unable to communicate with the outside. Cold, bright, crisp light blinded her. She was in a white room, tied to a bed. Fear and dread overwhelmed her. What fate had God bestowed upon her, leaving her in the clutches of an evildoer. Her train of thought was broken by the discordant noises of keys turning and locks opening, letting the man into the room, the man that had been searching ever so long for her. She screamed and cried and thrashed, making for a feeble and poor attempt to escape the dark clutches of this evil man. The man shook his head in disappointment. The man spoke in a soothing voice explaining how tired he was of chasing after her, how disappointed the facility was. The woman laid in bed, dumbfounded. She pondered. Perhaps this man was the very person who had come to save her from the torment and shame of years gone by, the very angel saving her from herself. But alas she would never come to know the intentions of the man, nor of the facility. She was never heard from again.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Cold Hearted
She came swift as the breeze, no need to tell her it wasn’t meant to be
It’s almost as if she was meant to see the darker side of things,
fluttering pink petals flying about aimlessly,
it’s hard to tell if she died vainly or just plainly,
her elegance as she fell to the floor,
lying motionless, still, not blinking at all,
the cold swept me up off my feet.
I looked down and all I could manage to think of
was the body that lay below.
She was a bitter girl, unforgiving and sour,
to let her look upon me, hour after hour,
time was not spent well,
for she forever dwelled,
In that strange chasm, that seemed to swallow up her joy and prowess,
for all I can say tonight, I shall not recite the past,
her soul forever wondering, will it ever lay to rest,
I cannot bear witness to the acts that have taken place,
for I was nor here nor there, when her fate was decided at last.
If even a challenge was set upon me, I would not listen to the voice of reason,
the night was still, no joyous cries, no laughter to behold the silence, it was still.
For the night laments, no peaceful passage into the world of the dead was heard.
if ever the man was to be turned, bare witness he should have done,
to rectify his mistakes and pacify the situation, his hands shook,
heart palpitations ran through his already tense body, beads of sweat dripped from his chin,
onto the cold marble floor, where they sunk into, the woollen scarf, which lay upon her chest,
enwrapped around the woman, that he had murdered in front of the door.
The stories of her life, passed around the house, like a memoir, forever enticing,
her presence lingered.
Even though she was dead, the man felt a sense of belonging,
in her house, the need for a spouse, had never occurred to him.
He was a boring figure, with not so much a grin in his life,
but for now he had, done what he believed was right.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Famous Shadow
The Music Lives In Me
Tip-Off
and the blood rushes through my veins.
Twenty minutes left. Still plenty of time.
Warm ups continue: Three man weave,
two line lay ups, two on one.
15 minutes left. Locker room.
Coach gives the same speech.
“Don't be lazy. Concentrate. No turnovers.
Box out. Run the fast break. HUSTLE!”
5 minutes later. Back to warm ups.
Foul shots. Two shooters.
Concentrate as the crowd slowly enters.
Feel the eyes as the watch you.
Feel the pressure as they watch.
Doesn't matter. Make your shots.
Three minutes left. Bench.
Last words from coach.
“Work hard!
If you need a break, tell me.
Relax. Enjoy the game.”
Tip off.
The tension falls away.
I settle into the flow of the game.
I am in control.
No nervousness. No tension.
I practiced all week for this.
I am ready.
My heart beat slows.
The crowd is no longer important.
Every second counts.
Every action is analyzed.
I am in my zone
and all is well.