Friday, 30 January 2009

Going.

I'm going now, and I'm taking my music with me. Lovely cognac's gold-warmth in my belly, and in my belly, the sadness of every clime. I'm going now, I'm taking along that music I lulled myself with. I was created by a woman, I am undone by a woman, my sweet music, will I be renewed by a woman? I'm going, I'm taking the music I toiled for.

What a beautiful language the eyes may speak, when they speak that of shaken dews. I'm going now, dear, and I'm taking my -- your? -- silly -- there is no music.

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

The Way to the Great Valley.

It's been long since I was little. I can never be little again.

As a child, I seldom had the privileges most my age had, but I never saw them to be the cause of unhappiness. Little things sufficed.

My Father, and the few moments he could spare for me between after his work, and tending to my mother. My strange brothers playing poker by the cold corridor. Keeping score of their tennis matches. Wearing little clothes. Smiling a lost smile. Speaking a lost voice. Taking my mother's hand in her sleep because of her nightmares. Smiling, then - and even now - that she believed that I was the one who was afraid. Thinking how beautiful the Unicorn looked, in the Last Unicorn. Giving the allotted portion of food away to them. Wondering if I would grow as tall as them. Putting on my socks for the first day of school. Loving my first two dogs. Watching The Land Before Time. Lying on my brother's tummy while watching it. Watching it for times beyond count. Having my heart broken when Little Foot's mother died. Hoping mine never would. Wondering if I will ever find my Great Valley.

I've yet to. Those little things, grew to a great need.

Little Foot had to follow the Bright Circle, pass the Great Rock that looks like a Long-Neck, and pass the Mountains that Burn. Perhaps I must too. I did not understand her then, but I understand her now:

Little Foot: Have you ever seen the Great Valley?
Little Foot's Mother: No.
Little Foot: Well, how do you know it's really there?
Little Foot's Mother: Some things you see with your eyes, others you see with your heart.
Little Foot: I don't understand, Mother.
Little Foot's Mother: You will, my son. You will...