Daily Archives: January 4, 2019

This Makes Sense Only to Me

Their worlds and words are a part

of my days and my nights and my

in-betweens. They talk to me while

I cook,

watch TV,

drive, and sleep. They give me

scenes and dialog and dilemmas; joy and sorrow and

horror. They give me

the impossible, and task me to make it plausible. At least

enjoyable.

There’s Aggie and her mason jar, and

Rosemary’s wish, the one she won’t

take back. Then there’s

the woman who runs over the not-quite-a-man, in a town

on the edge

of forever. And crusty Queenie, who

never did much right, who

never thought it quite necessary, who

might manage to do some good.

There’s Yvonne and Jacob, back in 1949,

Bonnie-Jane and Hannelore, in 1985. And still,

in stories written and always calling, Nell and Ledanora,

Mabel and Frankie and Tracy. Back and back, to

Ethen and Zihariel, Linhare and Wait. There are

warriors and queens who knock on my skull–Remember us?

I do. I do. How can I forget? You were once

my everything. The foundation of

my everything. The beginning of

Everything.

If not another book gets published, I will

write and write and write. There will be

mutiny, otherwise. Inside my head. In

dreams and waking. I’ll walk about like a character

from Wonderland, quite mad and rather glad to be so. Better

than the knowing, the abandoning, the void of a well

left to dry.

I prefer the parade never end, a continuous loop, of

characters and places already known, and those

slipping the red-ropes to join in, unannounced but

always welcome, to dance their dances and sing their songs, to

tell their tales and ask for my assistance in

ditching the parade for

broader horizons.

 

 

Advertisements

10 Comments

Filed under poetry, Writing is Life