Something Beautiful [a drabble]

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I am looking out to sea with the sound of a mournful train whistle fading in the distance.

There are crushed flowers beneath my feet.

He said, “Watch closely. The humpbacks are migrating south. If you’re lucky you’ll see powerful exhalations of breath escape through the tops of their heads..”

I think that now he is gone all breath, all breathing, all signs of life are grand miracles.

I have been holding my breath. Just as I let go to live again, I see it.

Far off in the distance a whale blessing me with the sight of his breathing.

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US Supreme Court Rules Same-Sex Marriage Legal Nationwide

Originally posted on Peter Stockinger's Traditional Astrology Weblog:

On Friday 26 June 2015, The U.S. Supreme Court declared marriage for same-sex couples legal nationwide. This means that from now on refusing marriage licenses to gay and lesbian couples violates the American Constitution. This landmark ruling will most certainly trigger significant changes to laws governing matrimony since the court ruled in favour of state bans on inter-racial marriage, almost 50 years ago.A look at the foundation chart and also the Sun’s ingress chart into Cancer, as well as the mundane chart for 26th June will show that the outcome was predictable. The following shows the foundation chart for the United States of America:

USA Sibly   This is the so called Sibley chart, which is not undisputed amongst astrologers. Nonetheless, the chart shows a Venus-Jupiter conjunction in the 7th house, which seems apt. After inspection of the ingress- and current chart, we will understand the importance of this conjunction. The…

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Alone In a Hotel Room

I am sleepless
In a hotel room
Somewhere
In the Deep South
I don’t know where
Exactly
I haven’t ventured
Outside my room
In over twenty four hours

There is a sound
At my window
That sounds like rain
Which reminds me
of sleepless dawns
In that green
And pleasant land
I used to call home
But there is
No dawn chorus
To greet me
And there is no rain
The drip drop
At my window
is a product
Of the oh so
Necessary
Air conditioner
They tell me It is
Hellishly hot outside

He writes me of a sad dog
Of our enduring friendship
I am still in an in-between place
Not there but still not quite here

I am in a hotel room
And somewhere across
A vast, seemingly, endless ocean
A dog with a huge heart still looks for me

I am in a hotel room
And somewhere out there
A new life waits for me to start it

But right now
I’m just a girl
Alone
In a hotel room

Departures: ramblings on a train

I find myself
In a giant metal contraption
Hurtling through space
Toward the country of my birth
I have the salty taste
Of too many tears in my mouth

One of the flight attendants
Is a French woman
She is walking the aisle
Offering cof-fee, cafe?
And I am reminded of the times
You took me to France

Paris, where I bought a magenta beret
In a large department store
Because I wanted something special
And nothing says special like a magenta beret

Do you remember?
We were celebrating my 50th birthday
It was December in Paris and so very cold
You gave me a gold wedding ring
Covered in intricate Celtic knot work
To go with the rubies and diamonds you gave me
On the day we married
In a beautiful registry office in Surrey

But this one,
The one you put on my finger in Paris
Had the words truly, madly, deeply
engraved on the inside

We were in a fancy bistro in Paris
We ate too much. We drank too much.
We spent too much money.

Just as the chocolate gateau
was due to be served
The lights went out in the entire place
I gasped in surprise
And a kind of childish wonderment
As the waiters, all of the waiters
Began to sing Happy Birthday in French
I clapped my hands
And my laughter bounced off every
Candlelit table and reflected in the faces
Of the strangers who chose that night,
That place, to dine out in Paris and share
In a strange American woman’s birthday

I blew out the candles and made a huge wish
And for awhile that wish came true
Endlessly, in endless days and nights
of joy and laughter
And hope
And dreams
And belief

And then a few years later
You took me to Briancon
Briancon in the French Alps
It was September
No snow but I still ended up
Sick at the end

But before the sickness came
We spent sunny days
In French farmer’s markets
And open air cafes
And we found a restaurant
That specialised in fondue
Before we found
Our favourite restaurant
That served hearty
Country French cuisine
I wish I could remember
What it was called
We ate there every night

The town boasts
The most sunny days
In a calendar year
And there were sun dials
Absolutely everywhere
And the Alps towering
Over everything

We ate hard French sausage
And soft French cheese
With crusty French bread for lunch
And beautiful rich red wine
With everything

There was no television
No mobile phones
We took books everywhere
We read and walked and ate and drank
I was drunk
On wine
On the country
On the friendly French man
Who cheered me on
When I butchered
His language with my
American sounding Mais Oui
And you. I was drunk on you.
You were my rock
My calm
In the turbulent storm
That had made up my life
For so long
I leaned hard on you.
Too hard.

Today we said goodbye
You held my hand
Continued to be my rock
My stable place
As we both broke down
In Heathrow
Our last goodbye
My goodbye to you
To my adopted country
And just as I made it
Through the gauntlet
Of Airport Security
My boots still in my hand
Your Bon Voyage text
Chirped in my pocket
More French

I don’t know how you do it
Continue to love me
I am so very hard to love
I know one day you will stop
But not on this day. Not on this day.

We both know how we ended up
Wrapped in each other’s arms
With too many tears between us
In Heathrow Departures
Instead of joyful kisses in Arrivals

We have spend too many nights
In too much thoughtless talk
As our marriage unraveled
Before our unsuspecting eyes

And yet, still
That invisible cord between us
Tugs and pulls and stretches
And I feel as though
I’ve left my heart behind
I feel as though
I’ve walked off with yours
Beating hard in my chest

And even at take-off
While weathering
The onslaught
Of a child
Throwing a monstrous
Temper tantrum
I looked out my window
As the green hills of England
Grew smaller and smaller

I openly sobbed
Shook with sorrow
As familiar iPod playlists
Filled my ears
With yet more memories
And I finally slept

Until I heard that familiar accent
Madame?
The French voice drifted toward me
Woke me up from my tortured dreams

And I remembered Paris
I remembered Briancon
I remembered the feel of you
The sound of your laughter
Your touch
Your goodbye

I don’t want to say
“We’ll always have Paris.”

But the truth is
“We will always have Paris.”
And so much more.

Briançon, Hautes-Alpes, France ~ photography by me, Robin Dalton September 2004

Briançon, Hautes-Alpes, France ~ photography by me, Robin Dalton September 2004

Waiting for 10,001

Originally posted on The Mexi Movie:

Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.
—Henri Cartier-Bresson (reblogged from bCL Photography)

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I Choose Not to Choose

Robin Dalton:

I loved this.

Originally posted on RISE :

getlost

All my life I’ve been really good at fitting in, playing by the rules, being the good girl.

If I can get a 2-year plan in place, awesome! 3-years, even better! I’ve got this safe life thing down. Give me a nice, long path to follow and I’m golden! No uncertainty. No fear. And if anyone asks me what I’m up to, I’ve got a solid 30 second pitch that sure makes me sound successful! Oh the feeling of being wrapped in warm security!

Okay, maybe I’m being a little hard on myself, but lately I’ve become aware of my inability to let go, to allow, to take a step without knowing exactly where I will land for no other reason than that it feels so damn good in the moment!

We were so good at living in the moment as kids, weren’t we? We knew how to play. We knew…

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I Know a Place

It is on days like these
With the wind howling
Blowing my red curls
Around my face in a frenzy
Another tortured Medusa
That I can pretend
I possess some control
That I make my own reality
That my future is an alabaster
Pristine block of marble
Waiting for my skilful
Use of vision and chisel

Today is a beautiful day
Of dreamy make believe
You wanna go make
Daisy chains with me
Wish on a few stars
Make magic with me

I know a place…

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Holding Me Up

There will always be
A longing
That can never quite
Be fulfilled

There will never be
Enough words
Enough promises
Enough touches
Of heart to heart
To create a sense
Of freedom
A caress
Of total comfort
A sure footed stroll

But there will
Always be you
With your arm
Around my waist
Holding me up

The In-between Times

The truth is
I’m hard work
Even at the best of times

This is not
the best of times
This is, in fact,
The worst of times

Or perhaps

One day

We will both look back
whisper softly
in each other’s
eager listening ears

In between
Deep wet kisses
Dirty groping
Endless moans
And dark, rough, sighs

“It was the best of times,
It was the worst of times,
It was the age of wisdom,
It was the age of foolishness,
It was the epoch of belief,
It was the epoch of incredulity,
It was the season of Light,
It was the season of Darkness,
It was the spring of hope,
It was the winter of despair…”

Because
The truth is
It is all those things
Our current dance
Is vibrantly liminal,
Is waiting
To take that next
Awkward step
So full of promise

But yesterday
I was overcome
With Doubt
Despair
Darkness
And pain
And confusion
And an endless
Audio tape of words
The cruel and incessant
You are not enough
Vicious Words

He has words
Words of love,
Of magic,
Of you’re mine
Of there is no escape

“we are something of our own creation
and it is beautiful to me
every time I see and feel it
and I’m not ready to let it go.
Because we are magic,
and I truly believe in magic.
You taught me to do that.”

“Relationships are forged
in the spaces between, baby “

We are
in the space between
as my life is spread
across two lands
separated by a
vast body of water
It is made up of
goodbye kisses
to and from my dog
half filled suitcases
a life and a love
being left behind
belongings strewn
and forgotten
grieved over

And fear
and
unexpressed anger

And so much hurt
And so much
left undone

But if I look East
There is hope
And laughter
And sunshine
And voices
That sound like mine
And love

And new beginnings

And the keeper of my heart.

But today

We are forging a life

In the in-between times.

With much gratitude to Charles Dickens

Last Things

I am remembering her
We were saying goodbye again
I have always been leaving
She had always been
The one who stays
Now he is the one who stays

For so many years
I forgot the goodbyes
I remembered the hellos
So very many hellos
So very many first kisses

I can’t remember
Any of the last kisses
Even now
I only remember
The catch in my breath
Before that first kiss
The soft whimper
From the back of my throat
As my soft body
Involuntarily sinks into yours
And your arms tighten
Hold me up
Even as my knees buckle

But today
I am thinking of last things
Last meals
Last laughter
Last fights
Our last dance
Your last touch
My final lingering glance your way

I sit at my kitchen table
For hours and hours now
With sweet milky hazelnut coffee
With crisp cold white wine
And look out my French doors
To my neglected garden
Which mirrors my neglected heart

I am thinking of Arthur
And how barren the land grew
In the wake of his desiccated broken heart
Until the Holy Grail was found
I wonder where my Holy Grail is
Are you my Holy Grail?
Is it your magic, your love
That keeps my heart from turning to dust?

And then I watch a black bird drink out of my fish pond
My fish pond, my fat orange gold fish that aren’t my fish
And I remember years of loss and grief
And cold forgetfulness that feels like regret
And days and days spent talking to my fish
Who are no longer my fish
More last things

I planted a rose bush when we moved in
Virginia Woolf planted one at Sissinghurst
I was enraptured by her house, her gardens, her
When we got home I immediately ordered one
Dixie promptly dug it up when I planted it
Somehow it survived it’s replanting
Will I?
Survive my replanting?

And then Dixie, the dog, learned to love my roses
Will she still love them when I am gone?
It has big fat barely pink blooms on it
More last things.

Soon there will be hellos
But right now my blood pounds
With too, too many goodbyes
I want to think about hellos
But I am lost in goodbyes
And last things

And a deep fear of that in between place
That place that isn’t goodbye or hello
That place where so very much can go wrong

But today
I am watching my fish swim
I am listening to birds chirp and warble
I am watching rose petals fall into pots of lavender
While Dixie sleeps in the sun dreaming
I am craving your touch and your words
Even as I sink into my own silence
More last things

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