flight

Within the darkened bedroom, he lay there asleep. Rain fell outside the window. Rain fell inside her soul. The storm hummed loudly, pounding against the walls of her mind. The lighting stung the tangled nerves beneath her fragile skin. His breathing became heavier, his sleeping deeper.
She watched wide-eyed at the tall, grey ceiling, alone in the cold room.
Alone near his cold body.
Dampness overwhelmed the covers. She watched the storm come inside, unwelcomed. Bursting through the windows, swirling above the bed, pouring out every bit of it's sorrow, her face numbing with every accumulative drop. Still, her eyes never blinked.
And so, it wept and wept above her, screaming, pleading, wailing. His breathing became unbearably louder. The rain nearly drowning, suffocating her.
Water flowed below the bed and across the room. She stepped onto the concrete floor, her feet soaking in the chilled water. Slowly, heavily, she moved herself through the water now to her knees, and walked out of the room, into warm winds. Where the clouds began to part.
And she breathed new air.
Where are you going, he asked, hardly wakening, eyes closed. His back to her now.
To the sun, she said. And she flew away.

-inspired by a dream the week prior to leaving london, mirroring my life at that moment in time.

Picture taken in Gibraltar, UK

summer magic

05 jan 2009
we were driving, my dad and i. it was dark, nothing around, and suddenly he stopped at a gas pump. all was black and dark except the gas pump. i was outside with him, and he stopped and asked me if i was okay. are you alright? yes, i said unsure. no, are you alright? is everything okay? and i woke up
i can see clearly, it wasn't worth the tears. we held on to something that was only a summer long gleam of light. because magic happens in the summer. when the wind comes, the cold rushes in, the suntan fades and the sandals are pushed far away into the closet...the spell is broken. the moment fades, the magic is lost. poof. and all that is left is the cold and momentary whispers of memories. the sparkles of his eyes that gleamed into mine dimmed, as did our love, as did the beating heart for each other. if life was but an "endless summer" then we wouldn't have the winter, the fall, the spring, to think and rejuvenate our souls. to ready ourselves for more magic to appear. better, more extravagant powers to come our way. new. but we also wouldn't have that time to mourn over the summer past. the magic that set beneath the ocean, never to rise again.

Picture taken in Canoa, Ecuador