Alright my lovelies, this week’s photo challenge (Gone, but not forgotten) hits very close to home for me. You may remember about two months ago I mentioned losing my grandmother, my Mimi. This loss was unexpected and traumatic for my whole family. For all that we squabble like unruly children, we are extremely close and my Mimi was our fearless Matriarch. Two months have passed now and it still doesn’t feel quite real. I can hear her voice in my head when I think about her, I can hear her laugh, I sometimes think I’ll see her in the house, racing me to the bathroom or sitting in the kitchen. I expect to hear her movies playing at night, Titanic, Pretty Woman, or maybe one of the Underworlds. I see things that remind me of her or things I think she’d like to see and it takes me a minute to realize I can’t go and tell her. In all honesty it’s still too fresh and I do my best to make myself forget and not think about it. I tell myself that this is how life has always been, nothing’s changed and my world is not wobbling precariously, I lie to myself. Yes, my Mimi is gone, but she will never ever be forgotten. I carry her in my heart, along with all the others I have lost and together we trudge it out day by day, looking for the coming light. ❤
I was skimming through my reader this morning my lovelies when I saw today’s daily post asking for a poem or song lyric that I know from heart and immediately one of my all-time favorite poems came to mind. Dismissing all the song lyrics that followed it 😀 I knew I wanted to post the poem because I’ve loved it since high school and the imagery in it always makes me sigh. It’s evocative, beautiful, and deceptively simple…
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Written by Robert Frost.
Here’s a little snippet from one of my WIP’s called Ashes, (I call this scene Mother). I hope you enjoy! 😀
It’s been over twenty years and I still dream about her nearly every night. Her copper eyes – my eyes –twinkle back at me from an unearthly lovely face framed by dark, flowing black hair as she laughs –a throaty, feminine sound – at something I cannot see or do not remember. The crown of blue ink stands out vividly against her pale brow, and I long to trace those entwined lines with my fingertips again, feeling the slight ridge where marked skin meets flawless porcelain. Her face is as familiar to me now as it was then; other details of that life long ago have faded, but not this. Often I find her near our home, standing amid the stark beauty of the reddish-brown desert with the heat of the sun bearing down upon us both as we search each other’s faces for traces of the passage of time. There are other faces in these dreams as well – dark, blurry images – that leave me with a tingling sensation of home and something lost, but always I reach for her.
At times she evades me and hides in the darkness of the place I cannot enter, a place she won’t let me near. The darkness is off-limits, a place out-of-bounds and forbidden, even here in my own dreams. Don’t…don’t look back.
Some nights she weeps there in the darkness and for a brief moment I can see her stretched over-top a pile of stones where she slumps into herself, broken and sobbing, asking me where I’ve been, why I’ve not come to find her yet. Help me…help me Ryzan, she begs before she begins screaming, those awful, tearing screams that haunt me and leave me shaken and drained for days afterward. Her piercing voice shifts from agonizing howls of pain, to gorge-rising screams of fear, before finally becoming the guttural shrieks of rage, so filled with hatred that I’m suddenly thrust back, forced from her presence as though shoved by a full-blooded vampyre.
From these dreams, I always awake trembling and reaching for her, fearing that once again I am lost and knowing that for a moment, she had been near enough to grasp. Thankfully these dreams are few, and most nights I merely see her smiling face haloed by the buttery, yellow light of the desert sun – the face of my memory – and I know. She is out there still, waiting for me to find her.
One day I will.