Silhouettes (Part III, The Memory)

Otomo No Yakamochi-
"Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there"

 

 

Fire breathes the air. The heat. The flickering flames reflecting off my face. My memories so vivid now as I stare into this dancing light. Sputtering reveries that enter and then leave the depths of my mind. I remember her now. I remember her face in the morning sun. Her smile. The sun would cascade off the ocean as it rose from the east, awakening her spirit. I do remember. Near 50 years later. The love. Her love. My love. Never since has the ocean ever brought such a beauty to me.  Never had I ever danced like the waves with the moon. Never did this fire drudge these memories of her. She was the one and only. As the flame continued to flicker, dim, then brighten. The stars would follow my her eyes in the night sky. Her eyes. That spring day still does exist, but only when I remember the way she gazed into mine. Those beautiful green pastures. The glistening of the dew covered grass. Her eyes. Any abstract of a thought of love that preceded her was that of a mere silhouette of a setting sun. The dimming fire. Beauty only diminishing. As it passed the two dimensional forest. Shadows long. The day finished, then beginning the night. How I regret that day when she set with the sun.

 

The vessel had carried us away from the shore to the privacy of the sea. Sky blue surroundings. The waters calm to that of my serene heart. The sounds of the waters slapping against the sides of the boat as we were anchored. An unsteady beat. The winds had seemed non-existent on that summer day. Peaceful. her and I were part of the nature that spoke to us. Being one with the world. I held her and admired life; love. There was no way of foretelling, judging from the serenity, how abruptly and furiously the angered clouds gather and stirred as we slept. A single raindrop fell on my cheek, awakening me from this dream.

 

I stood at the shore. Remnants lay on the shoreline, fished out by those with less timid hearts for the angry sea than I. Broken pieces of wood gathered up. The storm had passed with fury. But the dream. The dream. I did awake. When her smile dimmed with waterlogged lips. Her limp body. I could almost see her soul leaving her body. But not our love. She still looked as beautiful. As beautiful as a summer day endured after a vicious storm. My dream had died. Like the shrill of the alarm clock. My dream, had died. I held her as I would have.

 

I stared into the dancing flames. Believing what I saw to be an illusion. In the dark of the fire, a silhouette of her. The night sky shone a bright moon onto the forest. Shadows. Still. Silent. Navy blue. As if the moon was covered with kerchiefs. I could see her. In the dim light. The crackling of the wood. The wind seemed to carry a message through the peacefulness. Through the dark green forest. Like her eyes. There grew a breeze. Whispers of wind. I heard the simple words I’ve heard before. “I love you.” My heart beat quicker now. She was there. Next to me. The light diminished her silhouette and I made out her face. The cold air brought us closer. She had found me. We had found each other. Only the sound of the world around us now. No words. Only “I love you”.

Reviews

[justjenn_2u]

Our first breath is the beginning of our soul. You captured her soul in this poem. Memories more bittersweet with each breath. Wonderful language throughout this story. I was able to imagine the beauty of love, of nature but humanistic, all through my reading. Once again, you impress me with your artistry.