The tightness of the grip that keeps your head stuck to your pillow, when the alarm goes off and the haze that seeps through your eyes shuts your brain back down. I could not keep myself awake long enough to make sense of it all, the low ebb of morning when the night before there was not a single kiss shared. When I descend down the path of righteousness, I am lost again. Confounded by the chained miseries of yesterdays, tomorrows that are never promised, and the nightmares that I cannot seem to wake from. I cannot dream a dream that does not remind me of the tales that kept me afloat. I imagine myself once again, on the edge of the shore. That little beach house we went to that one summer, the one so close to the sand and the blue water. I remember looking out the window on the second floor, the palms of trees rustling ever so gently, dancing with the summer breeze. In that moment, as my eyes glazed over the crashing waves, I seemed to feel more human than I ever had before. That one second, a peaceful milieu, the kind that makes it okay to know that life is not a dying game, but the beginning of forever. A scaffolding of mildew, the raindrops of the mushy clouds — I am gone with the trees, sand and water. A mere body of energy, lifting out the window, my heart chakra ready to be released into the circles of heaven that I’ve made myself believe to be true. The beauty surmounts all the other pains, the small of my back tense and tender, the thought of your hands rubbing me from top to bottom. My lips quiver with you on my brain, so I shut down the window and begin to head downstairs.
I hardly think of being back home. It seems like a distant memory now, stuffed deep down, my insides willing to make them disappear to ease the pain. The aggressor of that tale of woe, the one that did not want to be known but to no avail — I am found again, trembling at the hands of God. My God, the one that guides me across the plains of the Earth as I await his answers to the mysteries of the universe.
As my toes are enveloped in the sand, I am reminded of you once again. That day that we first arrived, when you were holding my hand and dragging me out to the water. In a way, that was your sign. You were telling me that the sea was not Hell, but our savior.
I approached the line of shore, my eyes blazing on the melancholic sound of the sea made me feel like I was already drowning. In fact, my brazen thoughts carried me closer to the water, ankle deep inside. Suddenly, I heard your voice call out to me. I knew that you were nearby, the sweet sound of your voice bringing me closer to the inner circle.
My body felt a swish and swirl of emotion, a coldness that devoured my spine. The blood rushed to my head and I felt the power in my legs lose, my balance felt off. I decided to head back inside because there was no reality for me out here as the hour had passed. The wind got colder, picking up speed and my dress was swinging in different directions. My strayed sun hat held down by the palm of my hand, the wind who kept inviting me to the door of the house.
When I think of leaving, it makes no sense. Although, nothing seems to make sense anymore. Things in the world are all mushed together like churned butter and garlic, the shallots breathing in the fire of the Earth as it is demolished at the hands of man. I could almost smell the burning of our souls, the possibility of savoring the taste with small kisses and strengths of affection in between. My eyes felt like they were burning, my nose held a smell that would get out. I felt trapped in every sense of the word, this house — my prison — a trapeze of jokes, performances and the occasional appearance of a clown. Some nights I would take part of the stage, a face of lackluster, facing my own demise. The audience, a ridiculous crowd of mercenaries and thieves. Almost everyone, to my regrettable mind, is enemies to my soul. Knowing damn well, I could not prosper in the hands of another. I stood front and center, a sheet of paper in front of me but my mouth would not speak this time. There was never any truth to the words spoken, only because I knew that in the end, no matter how much sense I made of it all, God knew more than any of us.
Returning back to the world, a humdrum of delusions and party tricks, I was ever-so present. A matisse painting came to mind, I wanted to see more of him with you. I remember that delayed reminiscent thought– tomorrows, forever — You placed your finger on your pursed lips and I knew that you were the memory I so longed to reach. For decades, ages, years, months, and days. I opened my eyes and there you were, fresh as a daisy. What a grand entrance, the light of a shining breath, the kind that makes your entire body loosen. I just wanted to be home.
(written sometime in 2022, A.S.)
Ashen Pages 
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