the disappointment

trust and worn out paint

Posted by fidgefractures on 09/14/2013
I want to to sit next to my friend and witness the sun sit down and cross her limbered, tired legs into an indian pose.
We would allow our arms to become dark in the summer sun and hear simple things: like crickets and frogs singing from the marshy waters, birds scolding their babies to go to sleep after a long day of child rearing and family duties.
All creating a symphony of echoes to be recorded in our histories.
And we wouldn’t have to talk but instead we could listen to the whisperings of our fellow creatures observing the humans be at peace.
Our feet would be warmed by worn out, scantily painted and chipped wood from the front porch of home.
Maybe we would watch a lanky dog stroll by as he watched us watching him.
His tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth, expressing the concern of a hot afternoon.
Ants would scatter around our toes in a frenzy to find the Queen her resources.
And the red sun would be over the horizon forcing our eyes to become slitted and focused on everything around us, silently saying goodbye to her as she left for the day.
Our breathe would allow itself to synch to our slowed pulses and the hairs of our already warmed arms would be eagerly outstretched toward the other.
There exists a familiarity I don’t want to forget.

The Good Spirit reaches to me and is weaving a bridge of trust and though it is scary I know turning away isn’t an option.
Knowing this is balance, a needed touchstone to the past, a return to lineage.
Somehow, I am aided in finding my way back to my homelands.
My inquisition is gentle, questions firm.

As my story is being written, the important questions appear because I don’t even know the answer.

I am trying.

I could be safe just allowing you to be near me while I breathe in the smell from my clothes soaked in with sage, cedar and the lilting notes of sweetgrass burnt into my scent memories.
Maybe this friendship would become huge as the sky, as big as our souls and I could breathe freely knowing it won’t go anywhere.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: