Skies are dark. Storms loom on the horizon but there is no hope of rain. Only this dull heat. We’ve forgotten to fill the bird bath with water for too long. Even the birds have given up. Skies are full of curved balls and flaming arrows. And thirsty birds, obviously. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this blog going because I don’t like the idea of not writing the truth. Is this not the purpose of anyone who dares to sew words together? I could carry on writing about the sky, the weather, how the children make me laugh and weep and stretch my heart wider and wider, so gladly, so gladly, but all those shiny things are not the only fabric of our lives. It takes more dark blue to weave a beautiful carpet.
Pain is so stark. So present. So eina. No matter if you lie still on the cold stone floor and wish it away. It’s there. Like the black dog. When you wake up in the morning, you have a brief respite of say 2 minutes before the dreaded realization, the awful reality, swims into focus and you can barely get out of bed. Pain gobbles up words and notes and leaves you ship wrecked, reaching for the vodka.
I wish it was as simple as swinging by a shop to pick up some happiness. There. Pop it into a brown paper packet tied up in string, take it home and eat it fresh, like we did as kids, picking out the inside of the hot loaf on the way home, knowing everything’s going to be ok.
Betrayal, on any level, is a dark and dangerous beast which needs to be sjambokked to death by kindness, love, compassion and humor. The saddest people are always the funniest.
But, across the wild tangled wood drear, on the other side of the mountains, over the rivers, ‘cross the whip lashed plains, there is hope. There is light which shines courageously, which will not be snuffed. Like a lighthouse, it will guide me through these treacherous seas. I went to the sea, a wild and beautiful cold sea, where the white horses pounded the jagged rocks, hungrily wishing for a boat to smash. I saw eight dolphin spinning by in the silver dawn. They tattooed themselves behind my eye lids.
My chest breaks wide open with the beautiful weight of the world.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for leaving comments, which at times have been like life blood, reasons to keep going. Silly, I know, but there you go.
And, Andrew, your translation was right. But you caught the drift anyway.
Not everything is lost in translation. Thank god.