The Veiled Bird

The veiled bird 

In a magical kingdom, a bird sat on a branch, her eyes directed in sad subjection toward  the mirror providing the invisible cage of her soul.

"If only I was not so bleak looking. I'm an aberration of nature in this magical, vibrant kingdom."

The thought supplied another layer of weigh flattening her already crushed spirit.

"My eyes are so dull and without life. My feathers are faded and bedraggled."

As if needing confirmation, she tried to spread her wings, only to have them trapped and restricted by the ashen veil covering her whole being.

"I'll never fly like the other birds. Never leave traces of rainbows.  I'm doomed to sit right here, hidden mercifully by this shroud supplied by those who first recognized my abhorrent existence.

Emitting a soulful shriek, the bird recalled the totality of the agony plastering the bleak and worn road of her miserable life. 

On a nearby branch, unnoticed by the mourner of the incomplete demise, another bird sat, admiring the soulful song and the graceful dance of despair.

"What a beautiful sad song. I feel her pain...it pierces my heart. If only I could provide relief!"

The bird called out, announcing his presence.

No answer was received. So, the unnoticed companion, spellbound by a metallic ray of sun rendering the first bird bathed in a cloak of light and splendid color shining through the veil, stayed put, waiting to be received by an open, bleeding heart.

After a small eternity, the first bird ceased its indulgent, self-castigating dance.

Her eyes fell on the patient visitor.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you here, sitting with one as ugly and miserable as me? I was outcast by my parents, have no friends.  Life itself placed a curse on me. Can't you see I'm shackled to this mirror and this veil?"

Not being able to detect any bonds, the visitor replied cheerfully:

"I heard your song, observed your dance, and it drove me to seek you out. I noticed the resplendent colors of your feathers and their unique, vibrant beauty. Come with me! Leave this veil and this mirror. I can show you the splendor of life- and you will find the beauty I see in you."

"You are deluded! Why are you trying to trick me with your lies? If I believe you and throw off this veil, I will be naked, cold, and vulnerable. If I leave the mirror, I might forget how truly abhorrent I am.  I will get lost in the reflection of what others see."

With that, the bird turned back to its mirror, every now and then flapping her wings, injuring them further in the barbs contained in the veil.

For a long time, the visitor stayed on the branch, braving hunger, cold, and loneliness.

Finally, leaving behind a shimmering tear, it flew off, needing to sustain its own life.

After another while, the first bird turned and noticed she was once again alone.

"Here we go again. Alone." A silver sigh lifted on the gentle breeze like the feather of a fallen angel.

The veil became darker, heavier, and, shivering, the bird wrapped herself tighter into its lulling comfort against the frigid setting of the sun.

Author's note:  To all those amazing birds whose beauty enriches my existence.

BEL

10-23-12

photo from:

 http://www.rukshanahooda.com/galary.php?id=93&pgno=4

These Are the Days

These Are the Days

Author's note: A day early (or several hours, depending on where you are... :)

(in gratitude for the gift of Michael- Happy Birthday!)

The brilliant Sundays we reach up, glittering rays sprinkling our parents’ smile in gold.

The moment we hold full of pride the paper scroll, flashes blinding us, our own pride reflected and magnified in the surrounding sea.

The instant of the first tender touch, the first consuming kiss, the first fumbling awakening.

The affirmation and the promise- sacred bonds weaving a new fold.

The first flutter of the butterfly,  

The agonizing, and quickly forgotten, explosion of purest joy at that first cry.

The first view of the ocean, the last glance of the dying sun.

The fin of the dolphin and the feather of the eagle.

The peace of the wind whispering secrets of old,

The red hot gold erupting from secret depths, creating, destroying.

The last good bye, the sacred tear, the cold hand slipping from human grasp-

The survival of love, engraved in eternity.

These are the days we remember.

Etched as hieroglyphs of laughter, joy, love, pain, tears, and loss into the bark of our hearts,

Forming the rings of our soul.

These are the days we bow our heads in gratitude for we were granted a day, an hour, a moment.

A glimpse of the divine plan.

Thought to be gone by the careless.

Held in infinity by the open heart.

August 28, 2012

ETERNITY

ETERNITY

Author's Note: I wrote this Feb 25, 2012, but tinkered with it until today as it never felt quite right. 3 years missing Michael. And I know not everyone understands, but those who do REALLY do... As we cry and remember, take a moment to listen and see- he is right here in every kernel of creation.

 

Riding along the brilliant ray of sparkling sunlight,

Resonating in the sweeping melodic song of the birds,

Caressing ivory planes of  ivory sand and soft dunes of saffron desserts alike.

Erupting in the brilliant laughter of a child

Or flooding the soft cheeks of the broken lover.

Eternity- a vast span of time to be missed

An infinite range to assemble back into the divine kaleidoscope of music and color.

In the blink of an eye we were dazzled.

In the blink of an eye we thought you lost.

As I close my eyes and see beyond colors,

Shut out the noise and listen beyond waves of sound

Eternity is revealed

As you soar free in immutable glory,

For eternity. 

(BEL 2012)

FRAGMENTS

FRAGMENTS

Help me, she’s killing me…

The bloodshot eye stares down into my soul as greedy claws grasp for my heart.

The punishing slice of the blade rips through tender skin.

Ruby pearls slashing the blanched canvas.

Her toothless, rotten cavern grins down on the sacrifice.

Stunned by the absolute absence of pain I silently plead for mercy:

Make it hurt to make it stop!

Deafening numbness the simple resounding reply.

No escape.

As my heartbeat erratically flutters in my throat like the paralyzed insect in the throes of death’s passionate dance

I scan the space for someone- ANYONE- to step up and intervene.

They are all silent.

Cowards in their corners

Soiling, sniveling, immature larvae,

Praying her wrath will not turn on them.

Why won’t anyone be my salvation?

Where is that white knight riding to the rescue?

Is the sea of scarlet waves too wide?

Or the price to insignificant?

She glares down at me: the superior, patronizing, horrific spotlight falling on one thought-

YOU KNOW THE ANSWER.

The putrid claws hold out the challenge.

DESTROY THE BEAST

Suddenly her features soften.

Mother? An angel? 

Lovingly she tightens the belt around my neck.

Soothing leather cuts into the throat that’s too sore from scorching, unanswered cries.

My universe constricts

The helldriven rhythm of my heart beat finally slows down.

We come eye to eye. 

I see the truth in her empty sockets.

With dying breath I inhale her essence.

Peace is finally within my power.

United at last.

A requiem performed by the angelic chorus of demons inside.

As the scene dims before me in the mirror,

As the lens constricts to that blurred field,

The last, fading light of the mesmerizing sunset falls on the hidden shadow:

Someone new, someone young, someone pure.

With youthful audacity she reaches across the gaping divide.

Stunned, I fall to the ground.

The rush of inhaled oxygen knocking me to my knees.

Staring into the looking glass before me

I find myself

Alone.

Afraid.

Alive.

2/28/12 BJL

Dedicated to A.

Image: Life Through Broken Glass by Firo Technics

 http://firotechnics.deviantart.com/art/Life-Through-Broken-Glass-91417591

LITANY

You, my friend with the wisdom to fill a billion blazing Alexandrian libraries.

May your loquacious words always be without regret and your dark ink never blur from tears.

You, my friend with judgment so sharp and clear as you blindfolded hold the gilded scales of justice,

May the sword never cut your veins and leave you bleeding and forlorn at the stairs to the temple.

You, my friend who must have lived a thousand lives and secretly stowed away all that knowledge into the voyage of this present endeavor,

May you never realize that the flame of youth has not illuminated your inner eye but instead has gauged your vision.

You my friend with the unyielding belief in what is right and wrong as you walk on the  clear-cut path of stones before you,

May you never err from your certainty to wander in the jungle of treacherous doubts.

You, my friend standing above the rest of us hurling blazing fireballs in scathing contempt,

If you are ever brave enough to don the shoes of those you sneer upon, may your steps be secure and may you be protected from that inconspicuously concealed obstacle in the road as your high head soars above us. 

BEL April, 2012

Image: BEL: Early Morning Glow (taken on Indian Head Trail, White Plains, MD) 

The Rainbow

The rainbow

I cried and threw my words in your face

Spilled the wine and broke the glass

Running out the door into the foggy  night, guns blazing,

Cursing the day I ever laid eyes on you.

Sitting trapped in cold and darkness-

Pretending to be strong when all I needed was your call reaching out to me.

The joke was on me.

The vaults are empty without your sustenance.

My throat, swollen and parched from the angry barbs,

Worked hard to swallow the bitterness of false pride.

Tracking all the way back the highway of childish tantrums.

To where I knew I needed to be.

Wanted to be.

Perspective is a funny thing: Now we laugh as we toast how far we have come.

Despite the tears, the angry words, the darkness, and the doubts.

Or because of them.

We look behind- holding hands, watching the obscure dark clouds recede.

No longer the main event, they simply display

The jeweled wonders of the rainbow. 

(BEL 2012) 

Image:  Rainbow Rain by Penguin Lamp

http://creativefan.com/30-majestic-rainbow-photographs-to-inspire-you-with-hope/

THE WARRIOR

The Warrior

Unshaven, in a dirty shirt,

Crumpled like his soul

He dragged himself out of bed

Tired and exhausted.

Disillusioned, his eyed red from unshed tears

From the torture of sleepless nights,

From wounded pride he no longer knew he held.

The fantasy crashed, the scaffold was torched.

Why had he listened to the lies he whispered into the night?

The phantasies painted by well-meaning pansies?

How did he allow hope to haunt the empty halls?

Treacherous laughter echoes from the marble columns of his empty heart

Making a fool of out him.

Yes, the joke was on him.

Finally, it was time to start dying.

The start shot to life had been a misfire.

Yes, he should care about the loss his family would mourn.

And he should care that he would destroy the lives of his loved ones

The very people who reduced the father to a child.

Surely he should feel guilty.

He listened into his conscience:

 The resounding silence a comfort to his dark plan.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

And then the call came.

Can you be here tomorrow at ten?

No- he would be busy.

He had the plan

He had the intent.

This one time he would finally, eternally be successful.

And when the clock struck ten-

Here he was- crumbled shirt, eyes blood shot, soul ripped open.

Granting another human being the ultimate honor:

He reached for the hand offered.

He took a breath.

And he battled on.

(BEL 3-28-12)

Dedicated to the unknown heroes who allow me to battle alongside with them