Thankful Memories

I remember the chill in the air. The way the leaves folded to it. Fell before the shaking, turning as they dropped. I remember seeing the dander in the air. Small pods of pollen flittering to rest on anything and everything. I remember watching the hawks drift. Carried by it’s weight.

I’ve never seen him. Never. Not once.

Not yet.

And still.

I remember him.

I remember the wind. Continue reading “Thankful Memories”

What I Learned From The Wilderness

The rain is a pattern. A beat. It drums endlessly, shuffling from leaf to leaf, from branch to branch until, finally, it hits the ground. It moves, and it shifts and it desperately reaches for something solid to land on.

The ground soaks it in, this melancholy soundtrack.

Eats it up. Adores it.

And who could blame it?

How could you not love something that falls so far for you? That reaches down from the heavens, just to crash into the ground below? Just to have a small, tiny chance to shower you?

The rain is cold, and wet, and sometimes its unwanted.

But it’s beautiful.

In the wilderness, it’s a love song. One that I can’t help but appreciate. That I can’t help but sing along to.

Thirty years in the wilderness, and still.

I find it beautiful.

And still.

I find myself.

In this mist, and under these branches, and in this downpour, I find myself.

I find my way. Continue reading “What I Learned From The Wilderness”

From Tartarus, With Love

A dark tide. Pooling and rushing forward, churning things up from the depths.

The mouth of Tartarus.

Not a pit. A pool.

They say once you get lost in it, you don’t come back out.

That’s what they say.

It’s why it was the perfect place for me. Chained and bound, tossed in a sack, thrown with an anchor around my ankle into the inky depths.

Tartarus awaited me then. Eager to swallow me up. Add another to its collection.

And they were more than eager to hand me over. To please the dark depths.

They say that when you get thrown into Tartarus, you don’t make it back out.

That’s what they say.

But they don’t really know much.

Do they? Continue reading “From Tartarus, With Love”

Dive

This place is so cruel.

Light shining only through darkness. Day only reaching out after the light. Beauty only existing because ugly things take root here.

This world is so cruel.

And I’ve known that. For so long—all my life in fact—I’ve known it. Lived it. Experienced it.

So why?

Why did I think I’d get away from it?

That I could outrun this, my greatest fear, and still reach the light?

Kind of stupid, really.

What a dunce. Continue reading “Dive”

Sea of Possibility

There was a sea here, vast and dark. A sea that used to reach for miles, for centuries. A sea that churned in the tides of time. That lapped at the shores, taking sand away like a mighty hourglass. Something unaffected by such things, and yet, something that insisted on affecting others.

But not anymore.

There was a sea here, yes, but…

It has receded. Gone out like a great swelling wave, like the sweeping of the tide itself.

There was a sea here, but no more.

No more.

And in its place?

Sand.

Shells.

Bones.

Opportunity. Continue reading “Sea of Possibility”

Dark Waters

The first time I swam with him was in a pool. Controlled. Watched. The taste of chlorine bit at the back of my throat, stung my eyes.

Very tame. That’s what it was.

The second time I swam with him was in a river. Tubing. Lazily floating along. Hovering over the water more often than swimming in it, confusing the fish below.

Slow, steady. That was the experience as a whole.

And the third time?

The third time I swam with him?

It was nothing like those first two times.

The third time I swam with him was in the ocean. Continue reading “Dark Waters”

Overflowing Anger

Waves are something to consider, when venturing into the ocean. They seem so peaceful from the shore. Just continuously doing their thing. Bringing things away, then back again. Over and over. Monotonous.

I can assure you:

They’re anything but.

Continue reading “Overflowing Anger”

The Curse-ologist

There are two categories of people: the people who get all the luck, and the people who speak to luck.

Unfortunately for the former, not all the luck in the world is good luck.

Which is where the latter come in.

Speak to luck? What does that mean, right?

I’m talking about humans beings controlling luck.

Sounds nutso, right? Like completely bonkers. But it’s true. Completely possible. I would know.

You know how you control luck?

Curses. Continue reading “The Curse-ologist”