Tatakai

The Lady says
“His soul drifts somewhere within the waters of stillness
Fetal curled amid clouds of billowing white
he falls through a summer sky.”

Donzela sees into his soul
it almost kills her

The Lady says
“Fear not
he is still numbered among the living
He is only sleeping.”

Donzela applies her hand
to the seared flesh across his heart
Winces as she takes the injury into her own hand
The Lady places her hand on Donzela’s
sending the injury away

They mend the burns and gashes
They straighten the right leg and mend the bones
The right shoulder is restored

Potions for fever and building blood in him are forced
Some time near noon the next day
both women fall of exhaustion

The savant lies peacefully
His breath ebbing and flowing
Yet his face is troubled. . .

In Donzela’s dream the Lady says
“He is quiet
but given the suffering of his Living Hell
one might wonder at the intent of those who would call such continuance a blessing.
Given the nature of his nightmares
perhaps it were better he snap erect
and scream till all wind leaves his lungs.”

Donzela says
“How can there be sense in this kind of anguish?

The Lady says
“Pain
For all its discussion
Tells the body to avoid something
Hit your hand
Hurt your hand
Don’t hit your hand again . . .
Simple

But there is pain
Pain that makes no sense
Unrelenting
Horrible
Gut wrenching
Everlasting PAIN

And you have to ask
Where is the wisdom in this?”

Broken and Bleeding at the Stable Door

Donzela enters the barn
(evening duties are so peaceful )

Traveler is not in his stall
and something stinks of. . . blood?

A wizard!
(a bit young for a wizard, don’t you think?)
A savant
cut
bleeding in the bedding straw

She shrieks
Runs to him
Brushes the straw away
getting blood all over her

Two sisters arrive and scream at her to get away
They think he has hurt her when they see the blood
Donzela tries to lift him
then commands that they assist her

They reluctantly drag him through the wards protecting the residence
into the kitchen
onto the oaken planked cooking table

In a trice the savant is naked
The major injuries are staunched and poulticed
Medicines and spell parchment are sought, pilfered and applied

Donzela retrieves clean sheets and a serviceable blanket
When she enters the room the sisters are twittering like baby birds
She sends them to finish her chores in the barn
reminding them to look for Traveler before feeding the other mounts

One offers her bed for the savant’s recuperation
Donzela is not amused

In the Dark of the Moon

She is shaking
But not from the cold
For she has known cold far colder than the ice moons of MacTalb

She is silent
But her eyes scream volumes
For she is her own heart

Under a sky where the moon is lost
The Grey One asks “What is it that troubles you little one?
What is it that you want to say?”

An eternal silence passes
And passes again
The Sage builds a fire and somehow produces food
A soft spongy cake not unlike a rice cake

He tries to hand it to her
But she refuses
He throws it at her
And she catches it
Reluctantly she takes a bite

As she eats she shapes the fire
Molding it into unicorns and demons
And lastly
The face of a troubled young man

Somewhere just beyond the spine in the night
She says
“I am now a ‘special occasion’ girl
I never wanted this
I always hated the very idea
But here I am
A ‘special occasion’ girl
Stuck
In a ‘special occasion’ world. . .”

He says
“You are my muse. . .”

She sighs
You can hear the sound of entire oceans being lifted and moved
In her sigh

He shapes the fire to a likeness of the young man
But the face is off
and the eyes are all wrong

She scatters the image
She says
“Have you ever heard of Anteros?”

The grey shadow waits quietly

She says
“As a child I heard the call of the wolf
And my heart would not run the riverbed of Reason
I looked like the other children
But somehow I never was a child

I paled as the silver rain called loneliness
Bled all color from my eyes

And then one day under an azure sky untroubled by clouds
Aphrodite gave me a playmate
One who walked in beauty steadfast and constant

But as the years passed and I found that love must be answered
If it is to prosper
And I did not love him
So I picked up his heart and threw it like a stone

And now
Anteros the god who punishes those who would scorn love
Those who do not return love of others
Eats my eyes once so full of color

Why not?
I deserve it”

Day 21 ~ Sara ~ Darkness in Light

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

And now in this silent place
The Sky is all I see
And the hiss whisper of sand dancing
All I hear

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

I loved the way she had this sexy hiss whisper
When she said
Kisssssssss me
And kissssssssssssssing . . .
Honestly when she said September . . .
It was a prayer

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

The Sun of this place has a bronze tang
Not unlike the shades of her arms . . . her legs
Tanned by summer
And she didn’t like to let me see her eyes
Cobalt blue . . . with twin points of light

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it
And I want to die here
So I will no longer hear her say it in my mind

Day 17 – Personal Mythologies ~ Darkness in Light

i am slowly becoming my own Parthenon
angels and demons join in my aspect

then let us dance
while there is air in the sky

speak volumes to me
with your eyes
that i might know sustenance when you pass

let us blend our shadows
and our songs
as we forget civilization
and stroll this desert place

let us bend the sky
with the peals of our laughter
let us lift the oceans
to reveal all the treasure that is ours
let us become the eternal Now
and speak no further of grey tomorrows

Day 11 – Poetry ~ Darkness in Light

If you could have asked
Is it raining
in some future place?
Or will I suffer
the slings and arrows . . .?
And got your answer

If you could lift your hands
Against the Sea
Turning back the tide
turning back time. . .?

If you could
Spin the sky backward
rearranging the clouds
Without a second thought. . .?

If you knew a guy
Who could remove this tattoo
Wipe away this memory
Would you?

Day 18 ~ Lucent, My Own Personal Demon

kind numb now
its been . . . weeks?

isn’t it funny how things just . . . fall away
just . . . fall

dreams and reality converge
when you cook your brain

better than drugs
but i feel so . . . so bad

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

a shadow detaches itself
come to stare me in the face

rescue?

this demon says
‘you’re a scurvy clot . . .’
nope
that is not the sound of rescue

he says
‘what are you doing out in this heat?’
‘i’m on a journey . . . a quest of sorts’
(all of the sudden i feel so lower case. . . )

he says
‘what the bloddy hell?’
i’ figured
it worked for the French Foreign Legion . . .
i want to forget . . .’

‘how come you aren’t dead?’
‘there is a microfine mesh on my skin
a type of johnsonian junction strand thingy
as long as electrical current runs through it
it cools my skin . . .
the technology was prototyped on beer coolers’

‘but at night it gets bloddy frigid out here’
‘the current reverses
and it heats’

‘but your skin . . .’
‘SPF 437’

‘water?’
‘water condenses from my breath
and my sweat on the mesh
and some from the air
and some in my gear’

i say
‘i carry some food
the rest falls from the sky
at Manna Stations along the way’
he says
‘neat’

i say
‘what is your name demon?’
‘me . . .?
i’m Lucent’

‘not Lucifer?’
‘oh heavens no
i’m only a minor demon’

‘why not Lucifer?’
‘You hardly rate Him old son
seeing how you are nobody important
nope
just me . . .’

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

he says
‘so if that battery thing . . . breaks?’
‘in that event . . . i’m everso screwed’