Cast Shadows - Chp. 9 .OLD.I was never sure if it was the knock at the door or the end of my dream which woke me. The flash of white teeth in the dark coincided so perfectly with the heavy handed pounding on the door that they seemed to stem from each other, and I woke with a shudder and a jerk, staring at the door as if it were about to leap and grab me by the throat.The sound of a sliding bolt and the regress of the human footsteps began to slowly bring me back to my surroundings, and Cherrys sleepy, Good mornen did the job fully.Morning
I said, but I could tell my voice did not sound at ease. My mind was only just remembering the events of the day before and where I was, and I could still very clearly see the dark shape that moved between the trees and moonlight and the sudden flash of yellow eyes and white teeth that had stalked me in my sleep.Sleep well? Cherry was standing carefully, stiffly, and stretching out her hind legs like a cat. &
I Remember TooI remember too. Not only you.Now I sit in memories, as if my doorLead out of here and into there--until I remembered what it felt like to know you.To trust you.To have you.Forever and ever--amen.I would walk backwards to you-- you smelled like cocoa--I would walk to you in the rain. My fire is dying.They do not know me. They do not recognize me.They cannot close their eyes and know me by the smell of my soul.I remember you, like a splinter that holds me in place, as if I stopped moving there and left the mystery behind.I took everything else as a memory.I took you only as a memory.You might have only been a memor
Note of II am Isolatedherebeyond the notes I recognize, the places I could sing, the people I could read and who read me.It is not now a matter of learning, a matter of tuning, a matter of one broken string.It is a matter of distance between the strings,a space I can not fill with my own music.They are lost to meI am lonely on a chordAnd I run to the end and drop.
InsomniaI dont often sleep when there is glass in my head.Thesebreaking, shining, blinding bitsof memory, worry,Anything else that finds it waybehind my eyesbetween my earswhen all I am trying to do is ready myself for morning.Difficult to see past the panethat looms dirty between myself andthe dark sky. The treesjabbing tall into the moonever green, ever reaching fingers even as the invisible fire of autumnbegins to burn the leaves away.Difficultto piece together the shards where the stonewas thrown and shattered, all over thefloor,the bed,my handsleaving marksall across the sheets.It is warpaint of my soul. I cancover my eyes in bloodand still I cannot sleep.How far awayare the ends of my dreams?