The night sea

I stood on the shore and it was raining like it had been the day before...Sheets of rain pelting the earth soft sand. Flicking it up onto my feet as they bare dug deeper into the soaked beach...
Wet from tip to toe I was cold from the wind,too cold to do anything but shiver uncontrollably. My hair clung to my face and neck in desperation as I surveyed the beautiful storm playing out in front of me.I had the best seat in the house for the spectacular show of nature.

I don't know how long I stood there, waiting but never wanting it to end...The silence was deafening to my ears a painful still that haunted me, enticing me into the sea as it lapped up and down. Waiting,with all the time in the world...Forwards creeping up the shore line...Further and further only stopping at the hight water mark.

I stepped into the crest of the first wave and jumped over the second, the water a warm shelter from the breeze...I dived under the third wave and swam counting to ten strokes under the water till I came up for air.
Each stroke more difficult than the last, leaving me feeling dazed and all my muscles aching as oxygen pumped through them again...I looked at the harbor wall about 300m from me to the east and kept swimming to the buoys that I thought were nets the first time I swam to them with my cousin Melch...I think we both got a fright as we had been edging eachother on with shark stories and how Mossel Bay is known for its Great Whites...I remember not swimming fast enough to get back to the shore...Imagined evil luring under my frantic kicking legs and stressed lungs. I saw pictures of sharks coming right into the white shallow water to catch prey...That horrible helpless feeling as the ebbing water washes back a different colour.

But now as I swam on my own in the fading light of dusk I felt only a tingle of excitement at the unknown beneath me...Scuba diving couldn't really help an irrational fear in my mind as you realize just what is under you...And sometimes it can be worse than you imagined. Some fish I find scary...esp the little ones that try and bite your fingers off when you're only trying to be friendly....Granted I do sometimes entice them by rubbing my thumb on my index finger my other fingers curled as if I have something. But other times I don't do anything at all and they start on me all over...Ears, face, hands, my ankles. Everywhere they can.

I was swimming up and down parallel to the shore line along the line of buoys pacing, waiting as if for something but nothing in particular. The cool clear dusk air sweeping across the ocean towards me. When I heard a car pull into the parking lot above the beach stretched out on either side of it...I tred water looking to see who it was, but the sun was setting as I looked into the lowered fading light making it almost impossible for me to tell who it was. I knew they could see me clearly and that bothered me more than the thought of sharks circling below me on the expressionless ocean sand flung this way and that by the surge of the tide.But no need the voice calling me was familiar...

Does it ever end
that feeling that I cant comprehend
does it ever go away
when I loose my heart to a day
does it ever make sense
when I bare my soul to a friend?
Can I go on like this
being so fragile and blind?
oblivious of sense
oblivious of time
oblivious of love
oblivious to know
Can I ever be whole
or will I always go on searching
finding, growing, knowing ...
growing some more to
knowing that I will always change
but never become complete
and when you said you could never understand
you weren't talking to me
but to that voice inside yourself
oblivious of sense
oblivious of time
oblivious of love
oblivious to know

Bright christmas lights
greeting cards gold
green and red
tear drops
happy days
crisp and clear
drunk thoughs
optical illusions
carry through
frozen time

I had to say
I had to know
I had to feel
I had to grow

I miss those looks you gave
I miss that song we sang
I miss the warmth we shared
I miss having you here

I had to give
I had to take
I had to be
I had to love

I miss the way you said my name
I miss you made me sane
I miss the jokes that made me laugh
I miss having you around

I had to show
I could, you know?
I had to pretend
I had to go

I miss those talks
I miss the walks
I miss the time
I miss the fun
I miss you
I miss us

The sound of pots on the fires and babies crying, chickens contributing their bit to the racket too.
Opening the bag of maize the measured out three cups worth and stirred it into the water boiling with salt.
By the fire she squatted patiently and made herself tea black with no sugar. Finally opening a tin of pilchards ,she ate in silence.
The little familiar pitter patter signaled to her, her precious parcel was wide awake. Now her day really started.
Scooping up the last remains of the memory of her breakfast she licked her fingers and sighed.
Arms wide stretched and hungry Hope engulfed her with her tiny arms, ‘Such a big hug for Mommie, Hope you give the best hugs ,you know?’
Sucking on her expectant breast she watched the happy form, eyes content nested in her mothers folds of love.
Sometimes she reminded Patience of her Husband Happy. Little things like the arch of her eyebrows when she was tired, the sound of her breathing when she slept, the way she looked when she laughed…Just a replica of her father, but only the best bits.
He would be proud of this little bundle of joy, that comforted her.

Happy had worked on Sheba Mine .They had met at her cousins wedding, she had seen hope in him like a bright light that had rendered her deaf to the council of her mothers intuition. How could she have known, she had to follow this path, how could she not? She would never have taken anything back if she had the choice. There was Hope to live for now and life couldn’t be imagined any other way.
Their life had been a dream like one long spring for the first year but she had struggled to conceive .No flower bloomed within her, her mother had told her what a gift she had been coming with the summer rain. And to be patient like she had been. Now she waited for her gift expectantly, always hoping.
But Happy grew tired and she grew desperate to prove something ,she did not know. That she was worthy to be a mother somehow and that God would show her grace.

Where have you been my Happy? The fire grows cold for me. I could be a good wife if you gave me your love.She sighed turning away to gather more wood to fire the blaze. She wanted it big, big enough to swallow her shame, warm enough so she never needed him again, if she was a better wife, if she had a child , if, if, if only. Happy just sat there neither denying or getting angry. Finally after a long drawn out silence punctuated by her muffled sobs, he said. I do not know anymore, I don’t feel any more,I had a dream I fell too far, going down a little big deeper every day till at last the darkness and heat over whelmed my sense of light. You blinded me like a sun sky after a long night. I have been hiding, hiding from you in the dark and now it’s too late. I will never see again.I don’t see you any more..its so dark.The walls taunt me,closing in until I feel the life in me go out swallowed by doubt.

Two years passed and still no sign of the beautiful swell that should be inside her. Still she made the track down the mountain to work the fields.
She gathered wood and gossiped with the other woman who like herself worked in the valley ,walking down early before the sun showed its face and up after they had finished in the late afternoon.
Happy worked during the week and lived in a hostel for the workers on the mine, he only came home weekends. Sometimes she didn’t see him for two weeks running.

Rumors started coming to her like flies on a hot day , swishing them away she tried to block the thought of Happy being unfaithful to her.
Oh, but you should have known the mine boys like to play… Happy just couldn’t stay away.The girls so free they float from man to man like bees on flowers and carry off their prize. Beware of the sting, beware of the lies.
A voice inside echoed the suspicions of her friends, she fed on it and it grew so big it became true.
Now Happy was becoming sick often and always seemed to be home, he was getting very thin and gaunt ,turning into a little feeble old man. She worried now more than ever because now she was eating for two. Her belly happy to be stretched and contained her pride. She resented him like no wife should, his illness eating into their savings. But for that…

She loved him in her way trying to forget the man who took her heart giving it away hurt her more than words could ever tell…To be honest she didn’t know what to do, here a man with needs, here her heart with hurt to feel.
In the end it could be said that her love for him did not sin, she cared like he did not deserve. She could not turn from her loves heart beat.

Can you feel my love? Can you hear it in our ears? Its here, here inside me, can you see?
Can you feel life’s kick, its struggles, struggles to be free, for me ,my love for me. I need this to, this life so new, can you feel hope, my love? Not in us anymore but in me? The gift you gave, cannot be repaid. I carry my love still. Not for us anymore but for me. My girl to be.

Happy lay there with flies drinking the sadwater from his hollow eyes, sores laced his skin like craters bombed raw. I would if I could take it back, I would if I could have kept your heart . Please believe my Love. Please believe in me!Exhausted with shame, his body a cage, his soul a slave. A slave to the past and what he could not undo.
Please believe,he whispered aching with desire.

Time I’ve felt it tells it steals
Time I know has gone will come
The day the hour this I’ve lived
By the year I appear
Trapped in age
Its binding power
Everlast not, this I know
For life today
And grave tomorrow

She sat there in the dark a shadow framed by fire. I do, my Love, I believe in hope. She held his hand the skeleton it was, and wept for her sense of loss.

But it was too late for fairy tails and everafters. No airbrushed lie or blurry illusion only the stark truth of life. She could not go back to the naive girl she once was, back to the fields of youth. Her harvest had come in, the ground worse for wear. Barren now with no more seed to sow. Mother, she cried. hold me from this lie I’ve lived, keep me from the pain.
Only please, never say I told you so.

Her mother, wise from many moons held her close and pored heardew from the pools of her eyes.
My child, my child
You are my hope
You are for me a dream
sweeping back the sands of time
My dreams out numbered the stars
like sparks of light they were
a dessert rose waiting to be plucked you were for me
and now you are my sunshine

From the ash of the past an abandoned seed grew tall, carried on the cycle of life and on its will to live.

That night the rain flowed free, it ran the mountain paths, not stopping for breath it seeped down, gushing with joy. To the valley in the mountain, to Love and Peace Street.
Whips of lightening slashing the darkness, like drums thunder beat the African sky. The clouds moved on, their shadow gone forever from her heart.
No tormenting rocks, just pebbles caressed the rain now. The storm over, the ground fill.


A cry of joy rang out the ground, a cry of love that once was lost. Ash from the past ,now this new life, with trembling green fingers she held up her prize. Patience’s long wait all but forgotten. She was worthy of this tiny being, a mother she swore she would always be nothing to take this love away.
The clouds moved on, no veil for this happy face. Indeed Hope, her sunshine cast the dark out of life banishing them never to come back. Her dream child was finally home.

Weeds grew strong knots over the grave of the forgotten, Happy would never know the brown eyed wonder girl, her laughter a kiss of immortal joy.

only in dreams
it seems
that days are so alive
the sun breaks the sky
smiling wide
and sets in time
but to pass a day
my dreams still
don't go away
it must be
they are here to stay
broken time
swept imagined thoughts
they bunch together
huddled on the floor
waiting there
till I open the door
and the wind blows them in
and scattered to
their cobweb homes
along with new thoughts brought under my shoes
but I always find them
I also mind them
they grow so big into hair balls...
that those thoughts could kill me
but I don't care to spring clean
perhaps another day

close your eyes to hear
their wings sing
hear those notes dip
to play the light
drifting day dream
dawning beauty
a tale of life
this world of change
the butterflies
the butterflies

Life a dream, can you see in me?

Days a play that I write for

Months to pass, time a laugh

hours, minutes, seconds

race, pace, memory's

the going gone

time to tell on

months to be free

years to change to

days to grow in

to grow into me



with the wrong lines I'm tired all the time

tired of the game

tired of my lame excuses

tired to be the same

tired of time

time to get on

time to feel strong

time to be me

time to see change

change a way to be

change the view

change the lines

change myself

what I've got you wont ever have

what I have is who I am

the me you see

the life I've lived

the me you see

a game of time






the train ride in was unremarkable, I got on at the train station in Sandhurst, I didn't have a ticket as I would have to get one on the train. On to Guilford off at platform 8 and onto platform 6 to catch the early train into London. I wait there for about an hour, as the trains never come conveniently timed. Although sometimes I must say I have been lucky, but as a young traveller I cannot rely on luck as that has never been a cheap commodity that I could say I posses. On the contrary I have been taught by experience that what I have is never certain. Curve balls a reality, wrinkle free live just one of my little fantasies. Sometimes I get weak and wish for life to be a certaintly, to give up the chance to fly with the possibilitys but then I think that life is just about the possible. But the future can be so hazy and distant, an unknown scare.

creepy crawly busy bugs, out on my blog.

My sister had played the piano for the assembly service that morning while I watched with my friends in the sea of sitting faces...She was very moral and self righteous for a young person her age. She would choose to sit outside the class room when the teachers would put Maguyver or ninjaturtles on. She was the type of ten year old who would create bookclubs where there weren't any and would shine her media badge religiously everymorning before she went with her perfectly packed suitcase to school. She was also the top of her class with every subject and had a certain regal way of walking with her thick glasses and that skinny frame that made people take notice. - the teachers would feel this sort of warm glow and fellow pupils would think malicious thoughts of chucking their soggy jam sandwiches at her.But she did have friends...they all came from the top table and would use big words and write secret letters to eachother with lemon juice so that the letter could only be deciphered once burned(this being technology way beyond my scope- glitter pens were my attempt at being special) and she was queen of all of them. They had their own flag, badges and oaths.

Me - on the other hand, I was a lot more relaxed with my approach to school and school work in general. To be honest I just didn't care, anyway it( schoolwork, music theory) was always done by my mom or sister so either way I didn't have to worry.I could always take anything I was having a problem dealing with to them and with a few pathetic sounds I would have them convinced I couldn't do it without them. I liked to drop my sisters name at the beginning of the the year with a new teacher I knew she had been taught by and watch as she mistakenly thought I would be the new star pupil. Only to be very disappointed after a day had gone by. I did that just for the admiring looks I got and the little introduction.
Everyone this is Wendy, her sister is a very good student and the star of the school. Hopefully she will be too. At which I would stand and smile serenely. Thinking - you wish.

How is Tracy by the way? I still miss her.She would then ask.At which I would make some satisfactory mono syllable reply.

A teacher came up to me that I didn't recognize one from another standard probably and started congratulate me on how well I had played for the assembly that morning...I thought it unwise to interrupt her( as she seemed so convinced). And didn't want to make her embarrassed so I said thankyou meaning to pass the compliment on to my sister. I did tell my sister but she didn't take the compliment as well as I had thought she would. But that was how it always was, people thinking I was her all the time. In a way I probably did her a favor - its hard to handle gushing teachers - something I knew I did very well. You had to make them think you were an angel. %)

I liked to play and breaks were a time when I was in my element, then I could just sit in the sun and tease my friends. I never got a hiding in school, though I did come close in Grade One.

Miss Buckle had told us she was leaving the class for a few moments and that no one should go to the door as, if we did there would be BIG trouble when she got back with Janbrunt( wooden spoon). So as the rest of the class group huddled at the other far end of the class by what seemed then great windows. A small party of 6year olds decided to make for the door just to look out and see just what it was we weren't supposed to. Now in Barberton Primary the boys wore grey and the girls navy blue and all the other grade one year olds that came with me to the door were wearing grey. Making me the only one in blue.
When Miss Buckle came back eventually after what seemed half of all our lives combined. And walked to her desk at the top of the class with a very hurt but resigned look on her face.
She said....What did I tell you not to do? Trying convincingly to look stern. And scary and intimidating.

Class chorus - Not go to the door Miss Buckle

What did I say would happen if you went to the door?

You and Janbrunt ( Wooden spoon)would come back Miss Buckllllle and there would be big trouble - minus one or two not so bright six year olds

Did anybody see who went to the door while I was away?

No Miss Bucklllllle

I am counting to ten and then you are all staying in for break.And thats final.

One

Two....

Three......

As the fate of the whole class hung in the balance two or three of the brave and gallant boys came forward and confessed to her, more coming forward till I was the only person who had been at the door and now wasn't at the front of the classroom.
I sat there in that classroom and for the first time wished I could become invisible. Trying to unnoticed, blend in with my chair but knowing not to push my luck. I knew I would just have to act as natural as possible even though my little heart was beating like a sun bird's. I knew that everyone knew that I had been at the door. And I didn't want to think about what it would be like to get a hiding from Miss Buckle and JanBrunt( the wooden spoon). But it was all I could think about.

JanBrunt

JanBrunt, JanBrunt, JanBrunt....Like a slide show over and over.

Is there anyone else who hasn't come forward? Miss Buckle enquired...
I recall seeing a bit of blue with the grey.

At which Susan( still don't really like her) suddenly piped up turning to look at me...Didn't you go too Wendy?As she smiled sweetly.
I felt my head involuntarily shaking and my lips saying...NO, no I didn't. Convincing myself of my innocence.I wanted to believe it so much in that moment too.

Before I could think I had told my first big lie. Immediately I was filled with this deep sense of remorse but I was gone...Taken by the flood I had created and there was no turning back.
And I watched, I watched as all the boys in turn cried out in pain as their hands were smacked...But I suffered more sitting there in my little chair nursing my growing secret.

Years later I saw Miss Buckle walking across the street and I thought to go and tell her about what had really happened and how it had been bothering me all this time but I didn't.

So Miss Buckle...If you're reading this. I'm sorry and I promise I wont do it again.

And please know that I always think of you when I wear blue.

the power to feel
the will to see
the hope of sound
the thirst of more