the weight was unbearable. the pain…indistinguishable.
the same question continued to roll through my brain like storm clouds in the summer sky. what did i do? i couldn’t process the situation.
how could it ever get to this point? was i that bad of a friend? was it truly that easy to betray me?
i sat on the porch swing, staring at the even planks that made the base of the porch. i studied the small cracks that veined their way across the surface. this was a place of comfort and the only place i could think of coming. i had to have some semblance of normalcy and this was the only thing that made any sense.
the breeze skimmed my skin and brought the early scent of rain. clean and warm. i closed my eyes and took in the fragrant air in an attempt to clear my mind.
i don’t know how long i sat there. just breathing.
when did life become so messy?
i opened my eyes and the sky opened up.
awoken by a strange sound, i opened my eyes.
i wasn’t at home in my bed and it took me a few moments to remember where i was. i looked up to the window above the bed i was lying in and took note of the dark blue sky.
the sun hadn’t risen yet. what was the sound that woke me up?
i hear it again…someone singing in a language i can’t understand.
patrick warned us that we’d hear the muslim prayers 5 times a day. they would sing them over a loud speaker that would flood the valley. slightly irritated by being woken up for a prayer that i was not going to participate in, i rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. it had been a long day and there was another long day waiting for me.
finally, after a time, the singer stopped and i breathed a sigh of relief. now i could sleep and hopefully be well-rested for the day.
but then i heard another noise. just outside my window. someone was working. preparing for the day. then i heard ephriam’s voice. deep and smooth; he began to sing a song who’s melody i knew well but the words were in a foreign tongue.
in the still of the morning before anyone was awake, he was spending his time alone in worship as he began his tasks for the day.
i felt strange for a moment. like i was invading a private moment. but the more he sang, the more my spirit was at ease. i began to think of king david. how he worshipped without ceasing.
it didn’t matter to ephriam that he had to be up hours before every one.
he just worshipped.
it didn’t matter to him that no one was there to hear his singing and acknowledge the work he was doing.
he just worshipped.
i smiled and drifted back to sleep…
he just worshipped.
Lights reflecting off every surface.
Rain dripping from my nose.
Tracing lines down my face.
Washing the world around me.
Lights moving off every surface.
Music dripping from my ears.
Tracing lines around my heart.
Washing this mood inside me.
Lights shining from the inside.
Laughter making me smile.
Tracing lines around my soul.
Washing the bleakness away.
i heard the sound
but i couldn’t define it.
i saw the sight
but i couldn’t describe it.
i felt the feeling
but i couldn’t defeat it
i tasted the sky
and here i lay dying.
**title / poem inspired by Maylene and the Sons of Disaster**
support the daily dime…http://dailydime.ning.com/
so evidently, i’m a TOTAL slacker. i know, i know, i can hear you gasp in shock. steph? slacker? Never. just like i’m never sarcastic.
i still really want to participate in the daily dime, but have been reluctant to jump back in b/c i’ve felt really drained lately and don’t think i can manage much to write…let alone commit to writing something every day. so…i’m going to be a rebel and make my own rules (the boys can vote me off the island if they want…but really, they’re nice boys and i’m sure they’ll put up with my crap).
i am going to submit to the daily dime as much as i possibly can. it might be every day. it might be once a week. heck. it could even be twice a day if i was in the mood. but i promise it will never be less that one submission a week.
please, as always, support the boys as they continue to write, write, write, and put me to shame. (c;
Gabe = http://typinghurts.blogspot.com/
Todd = http://initialdraft.blogspot.com/
Cuyler = http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com/
Steve = http://tactilecontact.blogspot.com/
Arthur = http://phantomsandshadows.blogspot.com/
new run of the daily dime coming soon. i’m lame and wasn’t ready to start on monday. i’m going to stick with my lameness and start in the middle of the week (wednesday).
Her hands rested lightly on the ivory keys. They felt good. Smooth. Cool. Familiar.
Now, if only she could manage to remember the joy that the sound used to induce. If she could only forget that day.
She willed herself to move. She pressed lightly with one finger. Not really pushing the key, but rather just letting the weight of her finger bring it down. The quiet tone sounded sad. Lonely. It must feel right at home, she mused. Looking down at her hands, she willed them to keep moving. She took in a breath and began to move the rest of her fingers.
Her hands glided…no…floated across the black and white keys as the memory of the song began to fill her. She closed her eyes and was transported back to her mother’s parlor…
Sun was flooding through the large window, illuminating the small room. The gold lettering on the binding of the books that lined the walls were shining and the room held a glow that seemed more beautiful that this world was capable of.
There was a slender girl sitting at the piano, playing feverishly a song that was her everest. Her brow was furrowed and her black hair swayed as she attacked the mind of Bethoveen. Bright blue eyes flashed indignantly, knowing she would get the better of him this time.
Here it was…the measure that she had yet to master…and there it went…
The furrow on the brow and the indignation in the eyes turned into a smirk and a twinkle of pride. She began to breathe more evenly and her hands started to feel like they weren’t attached to her arms and her arms were no longer attached to her shoulders and her shoulders were flying. The piano ceased to be her instrument and she was singing the song with every part of her body…
…her hands stopped abruptly. Just short of the end of the piece.
Forgetting wasn’t so easy.
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The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com