Welsh Witch

His name escaped her lips between a whisper and a sigh,
Years pass in fragmented silence after friendship dies,
Her life still has no answers and she still wonders why
He slips into her dreams before the mourning dove cries.
N.2018

 

I have two unfinished drafts waiting for me to click publish, one political and one personal, and both can wait. My mind has been on an old friend all day, with a soundtrack of Rhiannon playing in my head and I don’t know why. He was wearing a well-fitted black suit with the white artist shirt that he lost years ago, much younger than he is now, tall and slender, when I saw him in a dream a few nights ago. He smiled and nodded, didn’t say a word. I woke up feeling the deep ache that comes with lost friendship. It comes with the knowing that I will never hear his voice again. That I will never see his scrawl on an envelope tossed into my mailbox. In his mother’s words, “That’s Life.”

Then today. I spent the day online researching demolition debris. Yeah, for real. Don’t ask… will explain later as right now, I have too many questions without answers. But, that’s kind of what THIS is… it’s demolition debris from an old friendship that got demolished, smashed to smithereens, and occasionally a fragment washes to the surface. The soil of my life is contaminated with memory and emotions.

I need a Rhiannon, an old Welsh witch with three little birds… come sing me to sleep so I can wake up feeling whole again.

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October

It is Halloween month, greeting cards are in the stores. This cat on an end rack caught my eye. I almost, almost picked it up but a wave of sadness washed over me. That ship has sailed. My friend is gone.

They say one of the hardest things to do in life is to mourn the loss of someone who is still alive. Maybe we were bad for each other. Nah. Twenty years say otherwise.

I’m the one who screwed up the friendship. I kept secrets, did not share what was going on with me. He was going through enough shit of his own… when I did share, he was like fuck you, goodbye. So, I still care… but… all I can do is silently wish him well.

In the meanwhile, life goes on.

OMGosh, this house… buy a $19,000 house and expect to find something inspectors failed to uncover. Basement smells musty, just needs aired out… moisture in one corner, no big deal… tend to that and it will be fine. No, nope, no nada no…. The problem is bigger than that… when the cable dude dropped a tile to run a line into my office, he found mold, so we need to rip out all the ceiling tiles. Whoever finished the basement should have installed a dropped ceiling to allow for air circulation. This is Ohio.

So, I went out and got work gloves, masks, safety googles, spider spray, garbage bags, a warehouse broom, and other things needed for the task. Demolition starts tomorrow. Today, I have to go get a drain snake… trying to avoid calling a plumber. Oh what joy-joy, eh?

In the meanwhile, for listening pleasure… Joanne Shaw Taylor’s new CD “Wild” was released on Spotify on September 30th. I love her bluesy rock voice. When this song came on, it blew me away. Damn.

 

 

 

 

Winter

A cold wind blasts through the concrete canyon,
Whips around the building to whistle my windows.
City birds dart while snow coats roof awnings below.
I debate about going out to do a little shopping;
But I don’t want to linger at the WRTA bus station,
Not while Boardman Street winds split at Market.

Flags atop the courthouse fly in opposite directions,
One on a lower pole drapes still waiting for a breeze.
While the fourth flag on Chase seeks its own direction.
It freaked me out the first time I noticed wind patterns,
Evident by four flags whipped into a four-way frenzy,
The comparison prompted by angry storm clouds.

A cold wind blasts through the concrete canyon,
Whips around time to whistle whispers in my mind.
Last words dart while snow coats broken friendship.
I find no shelter from the cold that quietly lingers;
But I don’t want to mask the chill with false warmth,
Not while the wild winds of life changes stir in me.

N.2016