To Najma
The
changing of the seasons are signalled by the entrance of cold air into our
lungs
My body
rediscovers cold hands and a stiff defensive poses like long lost irritants
brought in on the morning tide
Except the
only tide here belongs to the Thames, which,
for all her efforts remains largely unmoved amidst the chaotic rhythms of this
city, which, even in spite of myself I have managed to grow an amount of
affection for
The tribe,
nestling in to Manner House they hold each others hands as the time keeps changing.
Sandy and
her lover arrive in a whirl of whirlessness and immediately take up
contentedness with all the skills of those who have endured the dangers of many
past lives and have learnt, somehow instinctively, to avoid pain and misery
this time around. They are calm and solid, rhythmic and steady, constantly
kind, as others, perhaps less fortunate, vibrate softly around the edges of
their world.
Scarlett,
we watch anxiously as the gods continue in the test of her being, she cries
softly, both silently and allowed, alone and in crowds, onto the red raw
smoothness of her swollen cheeks. She is nursing the pain which has grown in
her belly, since the beginning of the end of her isolation, since the opening
of her heart, the coming down of fences, the defenceless attack of love
starting and then stopping without explanation or clear definition, and then
unexpectedly, a little cruelly perhaps starting again, in a place where it
definitely wasn’t allowed, and the baring of strong passion in the face of not
allowedness, and the guilt of breaking another, and the still being broking and
yet loving in spite of it and the consequent confusion and borderless lack of
boundaries and the irrationality of it all, and the way that sometimes life has
a life of its own, love causes more pain than pleasure and we are swept up in
an ocean of incredible irresponsibility and power.
Sara,
somehow softens, she grows green grass as I listen to her complaints, the
complaints are mainly about a new man, a Mr Birkbeck, who plays with her heart
and whom I sense will not be around long enough to father her playfilled
children! She feels an unhappiness approaching and I hold my breath hoping it
won’t be so.
Me, I feel
as free as I can be and happy. The floor has presented herself to me and I
stand on her gratefully, having two feet settled allows me to focus, I begin to
get up early and practice yoga, I will start a new job on Monday, I decide to
take responsibility for my dreams and prepare myself mentally for the challenge
of double jobbing it, knowing that if I do not taking my dreams seriously and
start saving for India and yoga then my words will be like worthless balls of
acid sent to taunt my senses in moments of self pity and complaint. The
decision to do this sends me on a high but the reality of my choice will be a
test of strength and only time will tell if I will be successful in my mission.
In terms of
the heart, I practice love like an art! Where shall I start, tonight we take a
hot bubble bath and I enjoy our seconds together knowing fully that they won’t
always be there.
I am glad
that you seem to be doing well, I miss you and wish that you could meet Oman, you two
would really get on!
Look after
yourself and think of us locked up in London,
cold and grey, working all day to afford the freedom of our raining weekends!
Love you
lots Rhiannonxx