I saw her last night for the first time in years. In a dream she built her house next to mine in a way where they melted into one. Such thing it was, I didn’t know what to make of it. I felt the familiar happiness around her, and the old ways of where words had not always meaning, and sometimes faded into nothing. I had never really trusted her. Even l have missed her so very much. We are sisters no more, not in soul, not in body.
This morning I opened the windows, but the fresh air was polluted with the noise of some small minded, those living only for what new, shiny thing they can add to distract from a life not lived and better be avoided, muffled into a low growl of coming days which are too depressing to think of. My tolerance for such shallow living is fading; NO, not that, but I do not find interest anymore in such doings. In small talks and blindness, the lack of voice, the hollow echo of this time.
The noise makes me crawl into myself even more, into times long gone and eras I can’t know of, and wonderful words written on rough paper with thick ink now faded and blurred, and also into what my life is again to me with all it’s new light, and space to fill with what is to come and in the making already. Life inside of this silence is so much more intriguing to me, so much more interesting, so much deeper and full of life.
I am hurt for her, I am crying, somehow her sufferings should have made her a true companion which has seen what I have, which had touched the darkness and embraced the light when it was again possible. But no, she is lost to me. I mostly live in solitude. It is a great thing to be silent. A great thing to just be. I have that luxury and I am ever so grateful for it. Every single morning waking up, I am thankful for this man in my life I love so very much with all my heart and soul. He allows me to find peace again, to breathe where I was suffocating, to heal where I hurt, to let time do what it can no matter how slow it may seem, and to walk carefully back into safe realms I had forgotten how to enter for such a long time. Like I had lost the magic words. A lost wish thrown into the depth of a pond, stripped of life, still and breathless for there is no air nor light reaching the waters within anymore.
One needs to be consoled in a way. Slowly, so very slowly, the reflection in the mirrors show who I was and become again. I can recognize the face I see, the shadow of a jawline, the familiar eyes which saw the world in ways so very, very different, with the excitement of a child. And now they are back. Because the world in reality has not changed. Those beautiful beams still illuminate the ancient rocks overgrown with moss, still make the colors of the mighty trees in all their glory, shine and sparkle when the first frost blows soft glitter of silver over autumn leaves. It is a privilege to hold such perfect beauty in my hand. A privilege to be allowed to have that moment in life.
My work is done in many ways it seems. I discovered the beauty of the world. The beauty in each and everyone worthy a second look. And I do not mourn for her anymore either, nor for anyone. For they turned into shadows, even less. That house she built to fuse together with what mine became, is not for me to enter anymore. I have a fortress again in my soul. For I have changed, as she did. And we are better people for it. Even it has been easier to mourn the dead, than those I lost to life, there is no step I will take into her dwellings. There is nothing I want, nothing I need, nothing my soul longs for anymore. Nothing I couldn’t have through memories if I will.
That sadness which like silk covers my soul, is merciful and liberating. Allowing me to look into days long gone without bitterness; and laugh, cry and dance again through those old days. Tasting old wines of berries and bark, of chocolate and smoky barrels, of all season’s fruits and harvests which we held in our hands within fragile, old crystal glasses while dancing, and living, and holding onto each other as friends, as companions, as the last love and fortress we could trust will stay.
So are the ways of finally letting go, and wishing for joy and love to fill their lives. And the hole, the void they left is mended for good, the doors are closed. The space behind them is a happy one.
Love and strength as always,