Nights of stars, far off, clear,
Memories unlooked for, near.
Two Shadows billow in red-gold glow
Rumor born on winter’s blow.
Of Christmas lights, bright and blinking,
Of laughter, a smile, roguish, winking.
A walk in darkness, with winter nigh,
But warm with friendship and a starry sky.
...Some things are hard to forget
Now that it’s only one silhouette.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
June 20-27, 2007
Life is full of risks and pain,
Can't see the lightning through the rain.
But leap, dive into the blue,
Trust all things will be made new.
If you never leap, you'll never fly,
You'll not have lived, before you die.
Can't see the lightning through the rain.
But leap, dive into the blue,
Trust all things will be made new.
If you never leap, you'll never fly,
You'll not have lived, before you die.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Wendy
I fell in love with Peter Pan. It was quite unexpected. I didn’t expect him to pay attention to me, I’m just a girl. Perhaps not altogether ordinary, but not exemplary, and certainly not the sort of Lady that attracts heroes. I didn’t think so. But then Peter Pan came in through the window and surprised me. He was fun, and brave. He was sensitive, and daring. I loved being his friend. And then, then I began to wonder why he seemed to favor me. Then I dared to hope that maybe a hero had fallen in love with me.
When I look back now I see how little I really knew Pan. But those months in Neverland taught me a lot about the eternal boy. He was handsome, charismatic, and many other wonderful things. When he cared, I felt like a princess. The magic night with the little lights that spun around like so many fairies streaking about in a joyous dance…the enchanted evening that promised so much…
But soon I learned that the hero was in fact still a little boy in many ways. It seems silly, but I never thought of him as Peter Pan. I didn’t see that he did not want to grow up. When I did see, it puzzled me. It tortured me. Hook’s words penetrated me, “He’s Peter Pan, he can’t Love.” It was true. He could not love me. He could never let himself love. He wasn’t ready.
It didn’t matter if being ready was merely a choice to leave Neverland, if being ready was a choice in and of itself that he would have to make and nothing could really prepare him for it.
So Pan took me back home, and returned to Neverland. I don’t think I will ever see Peter Pan again. And if all I have done is be Wendy to someone’s Moira, then perhaps I at least enabled Pan to someday grow up, even if it wasn’t for me.
“I want always to be a boy, and to always play and have fun.”
“You say so, but I think that is your biggest pretend.”
When I look back now I see how little I really knew Pan. But those months in Neverland taught me a lot about the eternal boy. He was handsome, charismatic, and many other wonderful things. When he cared, I felt like a princess. The magic night with the little lights that spun around like so many fairies streaking about in a joyous dance…the enchanted evening that promised so much…
But soon I learned that the hero was in fact still a little boy in many ways. It seems silly, but I never thought of him as Peter Pan. I didn’t see that he did not want to grow up. When I did see, it puzzled me. It tortured me. Hook’s words penetrated me, “He’s Peter Pan, he can’t Love.” It was true. He could not love me. He could never let himself love. He wasn’t ready.
It didn’t matter if being ready was merely a choice to leave Neverland, if being ready was a choice in and of itself that he would have to make and nothing could really prepare him for it.
So Pan took me back home, and returned to Neverland. I don’t think I will ever see Peter Pan again. And if all I have done is be Wendy to someone’s Moira, then perhaps I at least enabled Pan to someday grow up, even if it wasn’t for me.
“I want always to be a boy, and to always play and have fun.”
“You say so, but I think that is your biggest pretend.”
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Idwal and Liadan
He was a knight whose armor knew no chink,
A mighty man of word and deed.
She a maiden gone beyond the brink
Of his weakened armor the seed.
Perhaps the knight needed the maid,
Perhaps the armor would have peeled,
Perhaps, then he could have saved
Her, and been for her a shield.
The King’s right hand, a mighty man,
Firm, with fires deeply hidden,
Ne’er lost, nor without a plan,
His words followed, though unbidden.
Rarely speaks the silent knight
When the round room rings with words.
Yet from others his words alight
Like so many perching birds.
His counsels known to all though he
Speaks not in the king’s round room
The invisible hand of Idwal see
The outcomes carefully groomed.
A trusted friend to many men,
A knight of lords a prince,
Though hero in a lion’s den
His heart no danger wince.
No danger, save that from behind
When knives so deeply sting,
No perils worse a man can find
Than those which friends can bring.
Laidan, well, she was a simple girl,
Who loved many simple things,
She liked to wear skirts that twirl
And the joy that sunshine brings.
Liaden, maiden, don’t lose heart,
Lose not now the friar’s art.
Fair child, wait, look for the day,
Hope, dear heart, come what may.
A mighty man of word and deed.
She a maiden gone beyond the brink
Of his weakened armor the seed.
Perhaps the knight needed the maid,
Perhaps the armor would have peeled,
Perhaps, then he could have saved
Her, and been for her a shield.
The King’s right hand, a mighty man,
Firm, with fires deeply hidden,
Ne’er lost, nor without a plan,
His words followed, though unbidden.
Rarely speaks the silent knight
When the round room rings with words.
Yet from others his words alight
Like so many perching birds.
His counsels known to all though he
Speaks not in the king’s round room
The invisible hand of Idwal see
The outcomes carefully groomed.
A trusted friend to many men,
A knight of lords a prince,
Though hero in a lion’s den
His heart no danger wince.
No danger, save that from behind
When knives so deeply sting,
No perils worse a man can find
Than those which friends can bring.
Laidan, well, she was a simple girl,
Who loved many simple things,
She liked to wear skirts that twirl
And the joy that sunshine brings.
Liaden, maiden, don’t lose heart,
Lose not now the friar’s art.
Fair child, wait, look for the day,
Hope, dear heart, come what may.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Rope
6-13-07
It was black.
Too dark to see.
But there was rope.
Right next to me.
Thin, but strong.
Fully there.
Called to go.
Not to know where.
It was black.
Too dark to see.
But there was rope.
Right next to me.
Thin, but strong.
Fully there.
Called to go.
Not to know where.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Walking on Water
5-23-07
When the guiding stars are covered by clouds,
When the path is hid by darkening shrouds,
When I cannot see, I cannot breathe,
For the shadow is choking me
When I don’t know which way to go
When I’m caught in an undertow
There you are, when I look for you,
I reach out, you’ll pull me through,
You took my hand and called me daughter
You taught me how to walk on water.
When the guiding stars are covered by clouds,
When the path is hid by darkening shrouds,
When I cannot see, I cannot breathe,
For the shadow is choking me
When I don’t know which way to go
When I’m caught in an undertow
There you are, when I look for you,
I reach out, you’ll pull me through,
You took my hand and called me daughter
You taught me how to walk on water.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
The Thing About Mountains
3.12.2007
If I could see the mountains would they be crowned with snow?
Would streams there find the fountains from which their diamonds grow?
If I could see the jagged peaks would they rise high above the earth?
Would they be worn from teary creeks so endowed with gems of worth?
If I could but see the feet of this mighty chain
Perhaps my heart would meet with more than salty rain.
But the thing about these mountains is they cannot touch the sun,
They have no bubbling fountains, no place for harts to run.
If precious jewels are buried there, if promised roses grow…
The surface of the sea is bare for the mountaintops don’t show.
The salty sea around me tells of hills beneath the deep
There is nothing I can see, but these waves which always weep.
If I could see the mountains would they be crowned with snow?
Would streams there find the fountains from which their diamonds grow?
If I could see the jagged peaks would they rise high above the earth?
Would they be worn from teary creeks so endowed with gems of worth?
If I could but see the feet of this mighty chain
Perhaps my heart would meet with more than salty rain.
But the thing about these mountains is they cannot touch the sun,
They have no bubbling fountains, no place for harts to run.
If precious jewels are buried there, if promised roses grow…
The surface of the sea is bare for the mountaintops don’t show.
The salty sea around me tells of hills beneath the deep
There is nothing I can see, but these waves which always weep.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Full of emptiness
I look for you
Surely, God
You’ll pull me through.
I thought at first
This was the way
But now the path
Has turned to gray
I look for you
Surely, God
You’ll pull me through.
I thought at first
This was the way
But now the path
Has turned to gray
Monday, June 11, 2007
What if...
...what if when I, A'rora of the Hidden Castle, were not asleep all those years? They called me the Sleeping Beauty. Sleep came later. It crept, like a slow curse as my existence passed into legend only. Before the sleep, there was time to think, to pray, to agonize, and to wait.
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