Tuesday, January 31, 2006
September is Knocking on My Door - Liana Campanella
September is knocking on my door
But you are holding me so tightly
In the memories of August
That although I know I must answer
I cannot bring myself to move
Your warm summer breath descends upon my neck
And I feel the quiet passion under your skin
That sustained through wintry months
Propelled through the showers of spring
And deposited two weary souls
In the humid days before departure
Autumn is rattling the big brass lock
I have fastened twice for security
Against the uncertainty of my future
Of which I am sure only of continuous tearful streams
Without your shoulder to catch them
As it is doing now
Your lips remain closed as you open your eyes
Showing me an indescribable color
I know is you soul appearing to beg from me
A lifetime of lingering for the comfort of your arms,
For the pleasure of all things familiar
A stormy wind screams against the glass
Causing every window in my home to plead for a decision
I feel my spirit separate from you and my heartbeat pause
As if it is thinking, accepting the eternal change
Before you ever release me, our union has been shattered
My life changing in a moment
Knowing that a part of me has died and never
Will there be a reason to send living blood
To that beloved unseen grave
There is still no need for your lips to part
A kiss is binding, a symbol of current love
And the hope for its continuation
Mine remain closed as well, brushing against your unshaven cheek
As I turn to go, waiting for the electricity
In our extended fingertips to fade,
Knowing that it never will,
Accepting the questions I will demand of myself in the future,
I free myself of your perfection
Liberate myself from my first love
September is knocking on my door
She laughs, mocking me for my ideals
Knowing that the plans I’ve made are built
Upon nothing but easily shifted sand
I watch the last of the August suns set
She knocks once more
I have no choice but to let her take you.
submitted at 11:00 AM
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Riding the Wind - by Jennifer Hyman
She looked out over what she could see of the world and thought.
So small, so alone she felt.
She wanted to ride the wind,
run form the life that surrounded her.
She looked and saw the wind, saw her escape
In that moment she felt free.
She jumped from the height and was caught by the wind.
She did not fall or look back, only to the places this ride would take her.
When they found her, she laughed.
No one cared that she was free, and could be what she wanted.
All they saw was the life she left behind, full of broken promises and sorrow.
Why would she do that, they all thought.
She laughed, she knew that what they found was not her, only a shell,
a facade that she showed the world.
And time passed.
They forgot her while she forgot them and danced in the wind.
submitted at 11:35 PM
You're so small. So little in my arms. You're no longer new; you have been here for sometime, now. You're little arms moving, trying to grab at anything and everything in their path.
I remember when you were born. I wished to comfort your mother, but I could not. The ones who were helping her would not let me see her, to be there for her. I heard her invoke Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth, for bringing this pain upon her. I was nervous, I knew women could die in childbirth, and I did not want to lose her, and then have the risk of losing you as well.
Once done, your mother was tired, they let me see you both. I held you, my son, for the first time. The name we had thought of come to my lips. Little Astyanax you are, when you grow it will just be Astyanax. So tiny, new to the world and a new feeling came over me.
Before you were born, my allegiance was just to my country, Troy. To my family, yes, always, but Troy had always come first. I married your mother, and loved her, I still do love her. Then you came, and the first time I held you, for the first time in my life, my family, you and your mother, had my allegiance first.
My allegiance, to my family and my country. To you and your mother. I would die for you both. To protect you, to be sure you had a good life. For you both to live, I would die.
The next day, after you were born, you were presented to your country. In your mother's arms, you were seen by your country. They announced you as Astyanax, son of Prince Hector and Princess Andromache. The people cheered, knowing the gods had blessed us with you. I felt it as a greater blessing, that the gods had given me a family. A family of my own, you and your mother. With you in my arms, it made it all the better.
You start to fuss, wanting food or some other thing. I have yet to know which of your cries means what. I hand you back to your mother, putting my arm around her. She knows your cries, know what hidden meaning they have. She moves away and picks up a wooden horse I made for you. Your tiny fingers curve around it, never wanting to let go. You shake it in your hand for a little, and then it goes into your mouth. So innocent you look, how much I feel the need to protect you and keep you safe.
You know not the perils of the world yet; know not why I must go to Sparta. Why we are to negotiate peace. But I do it for you, for your mother, for Troy. So that days of peace will follow. So that, even though you will train for it, you will never have to go to war, never die in it. Though it maybe valiant, I wish not to see it happen, or even think that it would.
Your mother is called away for a little; she places you back in my arms. You fuss for a little, being away from your mother does not please you. Nor does it please myself. You then recognize me; the horse is back in your hands. You raise it, as if to offer it, or to show that you own it. Your little mind does not know what you are really doing; all it tells you is to do it.
I take you to the window, from which you can see, the archers practicing. Like Apollo, who protects us, they use the bow. Yet all pray not to be struck down by his arrows. They pray that their women are not struck by his sister's, Artemis, arrows. I pray that you are not struck, so early in your life, that Andromache is not struck, that the hounds of war, that are so common now, are not unleashed upon the city.
To know you will learn all this is a frightening thought. To know that your will still know of war, of all this. I protect my family and my county. You will learn the same thing. I feel the need to tell you this, even though you are still a babe in arms, still holding tight to that horse.
"Astyanax, you will, one day, be in my position. You will be with your son, telling him of what you wish for him. For you, my son, I wish you not to know the turmoil of this time. For you to still be brave, and have a warriors heart, just not hardened by war. To never have to prove it in battle. I wish for you to live by the code that I do: honor the Gods, love your woman, and fight for your country."
"That is a good code to live by, Hector." Your mother says, breaking my thoughts. She came in with out alerting me, a great feet for some one to do. She looks at you in my arms, and smiles. "You are a good father, and I think you have lulled him to sleep."
I look down and see you sleeping in my arms. Your little horse has been rested on my chest, fallen out of your hand. Off into dreams you go, to still know not of what is happening. You are still so young and I wish to see you grow.
I wish to see you training, to see whom Eros deems fit for you to love. For you to join me in council, to be the great Prince you were born to be. But for now, sleep. Sleep and wait to know of what the gods have in store for you. I must go. Sleep well, my son, and stay safe until I return.
submitted at 11:27 PM