Revels

Below is one of my 100 word stories run amuck. I quite like some of the imagery, and it's been awhile since I dropped some words here, so I've decided to share. 

The borrowed line I used for this story has been removed, so the words are all mine. That said, I highly recommend everyone dive into the book said line came from, The Memory Theater by Karin Tidbeck. It is full of beautiful visions and ethereal horror and I loved it entirely. 

I hope you are all healthy and well 💙

~*~

 I live for the revels. The nights under the hill. When the fae be free to let down their disguises; opening the door to their inbetween world, those dark shadows and diamond cobwebs.

It is inside these moments the fae be allowed to rip open their skin, their hair and souls. To reveal their true smiles. Smiles of teeth and coal and ruthless knives. Knives dipped in red, sometimes rubies, moretimes blood.

And in their born form they be such glorious creatures, with emeralds in their hearts and madness in their wiles. Dancin’ ’till they set themselves afire. An’ such fun they have, tearin’ ‘part their captures. Laughin’, cacklin’ , so gleeful all the while…

Come dawnbreak they will fall into drunken dreams. Rising again only with the moon, with no memory of the night before. Only visions of what was still to come. It was that remembering that drives them mad. The reason they be feverishly sewin’ back together their masks, fixin’ them on with sea glass and glamour, so they once more be safe to go out into the above place, searchin’ for their lost hours. For hidden secrets they didn’t know had yet to become.

But always on solistice and equinox they return. To the underhill, to their inbetween world. Bristlin’ with desire, with the need to be fire, to be seen, tasted, revered, wild.

And though they know it not, I’d be there too. Hidin’ inside those cobwebs and shadows….observing’ collecting’ pickin’ up the stories, then piecin’ the answers together. 

So that one day the world might know these monsters. Tell their stories once they’ve gone forever. Which they will be once I’ve done with them. 

Yes I, another beautiful nightmare. I, their final sadness, still to come.

~*~*~

Changes

 

In this photo you see Faelina, acclimating to the carrier that will be her space for the approximately seven hours she’ll be zipped inside on April 21^st, when I fly home to Alaska.

Key word there being home. Because after 10 years away, I am finally returning for good. Or at least for now.

My reasons for this are varied and sundry, and not entirely mine to relate (but nothing tragic or outright terrible). I always knew I’d go back. I just thought it’d be when I was ‘ready’. I don’t feel ready, though I wonder now if I ever really would having loved too deeply my freedom to persist in random wanderings.

My current habitat of emotions, and the circumstances I am returning to, are also not at all what I’d envisioned when I used to picture my ‘one day’ return. It is not all doom and gloom, rather another reminder that life is nothing if not infinite change.

Plus, in all the years I have been away, Alaska has never once faltered in its role as my favorite place in the world. So the fact that I will soon be able to spend more than a mere seven days there has caused a very real and true joy to bloom within me.

The plan at this point is for me to continue on with my current job – just work remote from Alaska. I keep expecting them to call me and up and say they’ve changed their minds, that it isn’t worth it. I have my fingers crossed that will not be the case (but life is change, so if it does happen, I’ll adapt).

For the first time in my whole life, I am having to pay attention to how much the things I’m bringing with me weigh – because everything is being shipped. I do not like this! A good two-thirds of my belongings (mostly books) I am saying fond farewells to. A part of me is saddened by this, as the vast majority of the things I own bring me such delight. Another side though, finds this rather freeing and exhilarating.

I am not looking forward to having to find a new car. My old one having served me faithfully for almost 14 years now, and I have loved not having a car payment. If my Alaskan people know of a cheap but safe used vehicle with decent gas mileage definitely let me know!

I am also very much dreading the actual flights (two in total), because I hate putting Faelina through an hours long experience that will terrify her. At least this time I am not living with the intense fear that she’ll overheat (which was a very real issue on my last move (we’re talking full on crying meltdown in my kitchen the day before I left. My best friend was there and can tell you it was not pretty!)). Immensely thankful that she’ll be able to come aboard the cabin with me. I think that will help us both stay calm.

And it will be so, so good to see my family again. There simply are not adequate words to describe just how much I am looking forward to this.

I will miss Bellingham. All its beautiful hiking trails and moss-covered trees and the trains that race through my window and into my dreams every night. And the owls... It has truly been an incredible gift living here. Leaving is hard, but it also does feel right. I can finally hear what letters the poem that is writing my life has been curling together these past months, they are the words spelling my way home.

Home. Family. Alaska.

Life is change.

~*~

Christmas Poem

Merry Christmas Everyone - 

In this tough and tremulous year, I hope this day fills you with comfort and that you are witness to the love of the earth and the people surrounding you. Here's a short little winter poem I wrote, inspired by this gorgeous picture (plus a few others). 

I love you all 💙 

~*~

~*~ 

The owl wrote moonlight upon her skin

 His feathers speaking secrets to the fallen snow 

The girl laughed, setting free the stars so they might  

Twinkle down through the cold, sharp night

To meet the trees …. 

 

They danced these trees and these December stars 

With joyful ease and hopeful wonder

While far away all children slept

Their dreams were silver and gold and magic 

And when at last, the trembling dawn arose 

The owl and stars and girl did slumber

While the trees content and happy with love

Guarded the earth for one day more… 

~*~*~

*

Trees Drip Glitter

 Throughout this time of pandemic, my writing friend and I have been faithfully exchanging (via e-mail) 100 word stories every Sunday. This past week, we were to write a story ending with the words "That's everything, my love". A line borrowed from Victor Lavalle's brilliant/horrifying The Changeling (highly recommend it!). 

Anyways, this week I wrote my story. Actually, I wrote 3. The one I sent to my friend is not even remotely close to what I am sharing here. It was a fairly decent collection of words. It certainly had walked through the realm of semi-logical sense. But I like this one better. Despite the fact that it well exceeds the 100 word limit and refuses to make a lick of sense to anyone that is not me. I have always loved to exist inside my own kind of logic. Also, on my hike yesterday, the trees actually did drip a drop of blue glitter on my hands. I have no idea how or where or why that is possible, but how could I not share a story inspired by such magic?!

As always, I love you all and hope you are healthy, whole and at peace 💙

~*~

I watch the numbers dwindle; the skin wither; the trees drip blue glitter on the leaves of my hands. 

Whispers ‘Just a little bit more’ she dumps my whole longing on her bottomless floor

I see the stars; landing on me hair. Such fire, such sweet, sweet glow! And with stars fallen, the stairs be crumblin’, heavens lost, oh despair, despair, despair!

Whispers ‘Unravel, unravel, unravel, I’ll eat your whole soul’

If owls were lightening, I’d want them to strike me every time. Oh! look inside their eyes, holdin’ such galaxies and lives. Oh! hear it now, the thunder laughin’. Such joy wash in’ ‘way my bones. Yet I think it be time for me to find me way back home.  

Whispers ‘You are almost gone’ wraps my breath to death with a twirl of her thumb

I think I be gone now, my time be stole’, I be lost!  

Whispers, blithesome, ‘That’s everything, my love’.

~*~*~

*

Roses Are a Treachery

I got my first smart phone four years ago. In the time between then and now, I have periodically opened my phone's Notes app and written out something that can usually only be described as nonsense. Often I'll take said nonsense and (try to) coerce it into something a little more sensible and - on occasion - present that attempt here. Today though, I think I won't. Instead, I'm showing you an inside glimpse into the jumbled junk drawer of my mind; sharing what might loosely be considered a poem, but is more closely akin to that speck of dust on the ground that wishes it was a poem. It was written in bits and pieces, at different times, and I don't remember what took place when I wrote each word. I can only say inspiration came from many random books and many weird dreams and many wispy, mist-covered thoughts. And I am guessing, at some point, roses. Make of it what you will. I love you all 💙

~*~

Delight is a double-edged sword

Sending ruthless shudders to the planet's core

Pond scum and monsters 

Trembling in it's wake

Roses are a treachery

Roses creep inside your mind

Like songs hell bent for stars

Roses on your feet are delightful

Underneath your feet they are too

Their scent is beauty dipped in wild

In a pincushion of insecurities

Prickled and rife with pins

I'm lying asleep and raindrops keep

Pick, pick, picking 'part my head

I dream 

Of tons of expensive 

rings,

old keys,

copper in resin found

 by a cold,

almost horizontal,

almost waterfall

I wake to a world of ice and fire

Perhaps the most delightful thing of all

~*~*~

*

Lead Apples

Guilt

is a sheared cliff

 quicksand and ice

littered with 

broken heartbeats

so, so cold ...

It’s own bitter grief

all encompassing

tasting of 

poisoned snowdrops

and 

lead apples

tearing

‘part your stomach

Life

is one shot

by a simple arrow

but no matter

where you land

you’ll always

lose

something

~*~

~*~*~

Crows

I had a different poem ready to share today. All somber and melancholy. But then I heard a talk about crows, their mystery and beauty, and decided to write something that was a bit more uplifting. 

I hope you, reader, are happy and laughing. Healthy and whole 💙

~*~

The language of crows

refuses to go unheard

insists on being understood

They will 

create chaos

make graveyards of the sky

until we listen...

...and we should

listen...

...for crows are hatched 

with hope sewn into their feathers

they soak up life, theirs eyes 

glinting with the mystery 

of pure freedom

talons dripping the change 

most do not know how to ask for.

*

They are our human selves transformed

into an existence that promises

something more than mere 

destruction 

We should be so lucky

to be born a crow

mischievous joy bursting from our hearts

as we fly through uneven wind

after a stoic eagle - quiet, alone, lonely

We will remind him, how to laugh.

~*~

~*~*~