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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CSNY Suite: Judy Blue Eyes (Fave tune)

“It’s getting to the point where I’m no fun anymore…”

One of my all time favorites, a CSNY tune, pops into my head whenever he says that I’m no fun anymore… we used to kick it with booze, laugh and have a good ol’ time… well, no shit Sherlock. I had a stroke. My new meds don’t mix with alcohol, the most I can do is sip a small glass of wine. But that’s on me, what’s stopping you?

It’s too quiet here, it’s like being in the country. You could hear a rat piss on cotton.

“Chestnut brown canary…”

Are you bored? Ready to say hey babe, I love you but I can’t deal with this?

It’s not the first time that I have casually opened the door to such a conversation with a question phrased for an easy yes or no answer, providing a non-confrontational way for him to say what may be twirling in his mind. The unspoken question still lingers in my own mind, unanswered: Are we done yet?

Next day:  Hey babe, are we planting greens?

Yeah, I’m planting salad greens… leaf lettuce, spinach, assorted baby lettuce greens…  Oh? You want mustard greens and turnip greens? Sure, why not… we can plant greens for old ladies in the towers who have already put in requests for bell peppers and green tomatoes.  Yeah… love you, too.

Today: phone rings, pocket call… I hang up and he calls right back. Hello? No response… I hear voices, but he’s not talking to me.

“What have I got to lose…”

Here’s the song without Young… it’s an old tune, been around since about Woodstock ’69 and not the best rendition, but totally cool to see old guys sing one of their old songs.

Sigh.

Fave Tune: Dyin’ to Know

Just sharing a new song by Joanne Shaw Taylor that gets stuck in my head once in awhile. Thanks for listening!