La Luna

I awake in the middle of the night to the light shining through the window.  The pitch black sky of deepest dark provides the perfect backdrop, showcasing a brilliant full moon.  Suspended, round, luminous, the heavy moon of white light, hangs weightless in the moments between dusk and dawn.  The song, Moon River, comes to mind.  The beautiful lyrics lull me back to sleep. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7SI7N22k_A

Here is a piece that I wrote awhile ago for a competition; it didn’t win.  It was a piece that just seemed to flow from the letters on the keyboard.  I hope that you enjoy it! 

“Moon River, wider than a mile,” the lulling lyrics creeping into the silent spaces between air. It was these lyrics that the woman heard first, before she saw the light.  The full moon, suspended in a blackened, starlit sky, bright beams casting wide swathes of luminescence and sparkle onto the earth below, illuminating the dimmed room, bespoke to an object of beauty, tucked safely on a shelf many years ago, once upon a time.  This object of beauty, empty, now long forgotten, left over, from a time long ago, so far away.  It was the brilliance of the moon’s light, cast through the window that caught the woman’s attention and cast a spell over her thoughts. La Luna.

The shimmering rays of moonlight, like an enchantress, spotlighting upon an object once so carefully placed upon a shelf, by this same woman. The woman gently lifted the moon shell from the shelf, Lunatia lewisii, a species of large sea-snail, found on the West Coast of Vancouver Island.  Fingers slipping along the smooth, pale brown surface, tips following the rounding whorl, a circular path leading to a deeper, secret hideaway, home.  Once upon a time, a child, thrilled at the wonderings, the possibilities allowed by imagination, of having one’s own protective hide away to pull oneself into, tucked in, safe, rocked to sleep by the tides and the moon’s lullaby.  Magical, the moon and the shell possessed a quiet power that captivated and mesmerized the woman. La Luna. Remember. The moon shone down and smiled.

The woman recalls the fairy tale summers of her youth; the times spent exploring the western shores of Vancouver Island, the sparkling sand, warm and soft upon the soles of her feet.  The ebb and flow of the Pacific Ocean, powerful, rocking, pushing and pulling her in to its depths and depositing her back to the safety of the sandy shore.  The gravitational powers of the moon, coaxing the tides to bring bountiful treasure to delight the child.   The moon shell was a gift, rolled on a wave, to settle at the feet of one so young. La Luna.

The woman thought it strange that as we are pulled closer to the moon, we resist the pull, attempting to fix ourselves firmly onto the earth.  Not yet, are the whispered words. The moon shell cradled gently in the woman’s hands, mesmerizing her thoughts.  Memories. The moon shone down and smiled.

This was a glorious world where nature’s beauty was free to explore through wonder and by innocent touch.  There was a darker side to nature and the child would learn to respect the pull of the tides and discover that the beautiful shell housed an elusive creature, a predator, feeding on mollusks. One so beautiful, yet so monstrous. The child learned to recognize the clues of the moon snail’s elusive presence, from the rubbery sand collars, to the perfectly round holes drilled by the radula tongue, visible on a shell’s surface.  The child coveted these drilled shells, beautifully, tragically, flawed, as she carefully collected and strung them together with string or kelp, forming mermaid necklaces to adorn her neck.  A memory of two innocent children sitting in an abandoned rowboat, beached upon the sand.  Oh, the places they sailed and the treasures they unearthed. Two drifters, off to see the world.  The children fell under the spell of the moon, their laughter echoing forth.  La Luna. The moon shone down and smiled.

Time would alter these two children.  Navigating their way through days of heartbreak and joy, their lives were lived and lessons learned.  Pushed and pulled by the moon’s powerful gravitational tug, they would briefly lose their way, falling off course, only to be set back upon a solid shore, for they were under the spell of the moon.  This spell, mixed with the raging power of a centrifugal force, a force with the power to disrupt the tenuous balance between chaos and calm. The power of the moon’s force and the motion of the seas pushed and pulled, rocking the children safely back to the shore, the place they knew as home.  It began as a journey of hope and promise.   It will end in peace, understanding, and forgiveness.  Hold on to the memories. La Luna.  The moon shone down and smiled.

Precious days, bittersweet moments in time, opportunities to build upon their dreams, all chances or pre determined destinies bequeathed from a universe’s musings or plan?  Yet, the woman knew that dreams are elusive, too.  “Dream maker, heart breaker.”  Over time, the magic fades. The moon snail’s shell, securely cupped within the woman’s hands, held a secret.  Listen.  The woman raised the moon shell to her ear and heard the sounds of the sea, the roar of the waves far, far away, the gentle break of their passion, as they silenced, tousled gently upon the sand.  We’re after the same rainbow’s end.  La Luna.  The moon shone down and smiled.

Perhaps, there is a heavenly mixture conjured by a universal hand. A force more powerful than the free will of men, a ribbon of life that twirls and spins from each of us, connecting us through blood lines, friendships, and circumstance.  Pushed and pulled together, torn apart within fleeting slices of time.   We are rocked, pushed, and pulled by the tides of the moon, tossed about, in many directions, until we come to rest gently upon the shore. We travel the lands, until finally returning to our shelter, our home. In the quiet of the night, as the moonbeams shine down, we are rocked to dreams and sleep. La Luna. The moon shone down and smiled.

For it is about wonder.  The wonder begins when a child’s sweet touch lifts a found shell from the damp ocean floor, when the moonbeams that brighten the blackest of nights, shine down upon us, and when the lullabies of love, sing for us.  We forget. It is about love.  As the shell connects to the sea, a life connects to another, and so it goes, an age-old story, throughout time.  Open your hearts, universal souls.  We are more alike than different. Find your way back home. La Luna. The moon shone down and smiled.

[1]


[1] Moon River~ composed by- Henry Mancini

Lyrics Written by- Johnny Mercer

An Ocean Between Us

There is an ocean between us, an ocean of words left unspoken.  The waters, deep, dark, and murky, swallowing the whispers. Did you hear the crashing waves beat upon the shore; they brought forth rage.

There is an ocean between us, an ocean of regrets.  Appreciate, there will never be closure, never any reasons given that will end searching, ease the heart ache, calm the spirit.  Perhaps, you heard the waves as they gently rocked a heart?

There is an ocean between us;  tears will continue to flow. For that is what happens when betrayal is sent spinning forth onto a universe.  A price is paid; you were willing to pay it.  Listen in the wind as the gulls cry out to the heavens above.

There is an ocean between us; I forgave you from the start. May you never feel the pain brought about by your actions.  May you come to forget your part in the messiness of a life.  When you look upon the residue, may you feel no shame.  Look onto the surface of the ocean;  like a mirror, you see your reflection shining forth the truth.

There is an ocean between us; the tides pull back and forth depositing treasures upon the shores. Hearts break; love is blind.  To every life there will come a time to reflect upon one’s legacy.  Look upon the sand, you will find my gift to you.  It will come in the form of a heart-shaped stone.  Pick it up.  Treasure it.  It is all you will ever have to remind you of what you lost.

Macaroni and Cheese

A late night eating cake and laughing with the “girls” had left me rather sleepy this afternoon.  The biting cold and the brilliant sunshine were competing for attention.  Rake the wayward leaves or warm up in front of the fireplace and let the beams of light stream through the windows?  I chose the latter!

Curling under the thick blanket, drifting to dreams, the knock at the door surprised me~ the son.

“What’s for dinner, Mom?”

“Left over sushi, veggies, and white wine.  Oh, and cake.”

The son rifled through the pantry until he found a box of Annie’s macaroni and cheese, chili flakes, and hot sauce. At ease in the kitchen, this young man can cook up a macaroni feast!  Pots clattering, grater and cheese, fridge door, opening and closing.  A symphony to my ears.

Thirty minutes later we are sharing a simple meal, seated together at the table, laughing and chatting about the events of the week.  Time is fleeting.

“Gotta go, Mom.  I’m heading out.”

Wish you could stay.”

“I know, but, gotta go.”

Sitting in the silence, I remember the little boy with the big bowl of macaroni and cheese.  Some days a dinosaur headpiece greeted me, other times, he’d run into the kitchen, covered in scotch tape and bird feathers~

“I want to fly, mom!”

The little boy did fly through life. The days of childhood seemed never-ending, yet time flew by.  If I had known then, what I know now. That once upon a time, long ago, there was a pivotal moment, a heart beat.

In that moment, the briefest beat between child and man, I would be rocking a son to sleep, reading the last story from the favourite book, gently tucking in the ratty, blue blanket.  Had I known that last moment, I would never have put the little boy down.