I shower and dress, apply makeup as though I am going to work.  I barely recognize  my own  reflection   in the mirror but  I am wearing my favorite dress and my hair is the color of rusty nails.  I ignore your perplexed expression and questions.

Downtown I meld into the chaotic masses,  eyes that are infused with the pain of   survival. As the morning wears on relentless chatter becomes an undercurrent of whispers that fade with the crowd. Sweat  and strong coffee stings  my nostrils, clings to skin.  Alien faces  are etched behind my eyes.

The familiar  girl  is  propped against the graffiti covered wall that turns golden in the sunset. Her head rests against   skeletal arms that  wrap around her knees.  Jarred by a boot she glances upward from her induced euphoria,  fumbles in the pocket of torn jeans  fishing out a handful of dollars.  Glancing around the man slips it beneath his belt and places a small bag into her weedy fingers that loosen, dropping it between her feet. I wonder how she will sleep in the night cold.

Repelled by the  scent of urine, even the pigeons keep their distance and the stray dog lifts his feet. I feel those good intentions rising but they remain contained in my hermit mind. Does it count that I thought of her as she isolates to death?

Making my way back I pass  that abandoned  garden, pick a flower to playfully  slip behind your ear. I rely on distractions these days.

You kiss the back of my neck and once again describe your  beloved island and how the sun’s glare bounces off the seas surface and  life glides beneath the sparkling blue that spreads over the horizon.

From my deserted garden we share an apple that reminds me of an autumn orchard and a love struck boy whose memory compels me to rub my body against you in search of that trigger,  that wild place in my mind that is precious only if it is gone.

162 thoughts on “Stasis

  1. “If the rawness of what hides behind your mask saw the rawness of what hides behind mine…
    how we’d laugh… and how our raw selves would dance in the recognition…”

    You conjure something here that speaks for every such soul.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. I think that was an imaginary quote from somebody in some parallel situation, reading what you wrote and feeling hope as a result.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Very nice. I was looking for more information about you — where you live (not specifically, just general geographically). If you do things other than write. I wondered if your really lived in a city. I enjoy your work.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A day in life. To walk through the grit of life as it is and return back to dreams of better times and places and seek that connection with another that soothes, heals, and renews a boundless inner strength to carry on, that is the stuff of life. Beautifully done Rene.

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      1. My pleasure Rene, my head elves are lit up like a Christmas tree when I read your poetry or short stories. To intuit a correct interpretation is a credit to you and the clarity of your voice and the intensity of focus you bring to those rascally head elves.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Timely & exceptionally well written.

    Much is gone, now.
    Much has become precious.
    This is a prophetic prose. I fear we may only be truly free, when it is all gone. Man is doing his best to dispose of all garden orchards.

    “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose” – Kris Kristofferson
    Your words always make me think. xoxo

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  5. Honest and with a degree of tension, the problem of other people. What separates us and whether empathy is enough. It’s a start at least. The awareness (possibly false) generated by our memory and dreams. Sorry I got rather lost in this piece and my critique is meandering to say the least. Nice work!

    Liked by 2 people

      1. It is a subtle piece that packs a lot in within a very short space. Also what binds us, how we are similar, memories and dreams and how they haunt all of us, it is just a question of degree as whether they define us or destroy us. Thank you very much for this.

        Liked by 1 person

          1. I am prone to digress… Roses are planted where thorns grow,
            And on the barren heath
            Sing the honey bees.
            I think something like this is perfect for “the abandoned garden” that I spoke of.

            Liked by 1 person

  6. Beautifully evocative piece with such stark contrasts of gritty harshness and warm comfort – the narrator with her beloved sanctuary, and the lonely girl left to shiver out in the cold. You really pull the reader into the scene and make it pulse with life.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Rene, this brought memories of my homeless friends. Because of isolation, I don’t see them and wonder how many are still alive. Your words bring me the assurance that you are still fighting to save the lives of others. This has been the bright spot in my otherwise monotonous day.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dennis, one must worry and wonder what is happening with the homeless when even our elderly in care homes are at such terrible risk. I know you have and do all that you can. Take care of yourself!

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  8. Wow, Holly!! I really loved this!! The description of your hair color was so great – rusty nail!!
    Your ending was so masterful, beautiful and pensive!! Bellissimo, My Dear Bellissimo!!
    xoxo 😘💕🌹

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Bonjour mon Ami, Amie HEART

    Ce matin je passe sur ton blog avec
    Des paroles de douceur, qui en fera pour moi et toi des moments de bonheur

    Ce sont de simples écris et des mots trouvés, qui te mettra des étoiles dans les yeux
    Prenons ensemble le temps et la joie d avoir des matins heureux

    Qu’ils fait bon se réveiller au petit matin de suivre en joie son chemin
    D’avoir eu des rêves plein le cœur

    Ce matin pense à aimer et oublier , les blessures du passé
    Pense juste la magie de la beauté du jour d’avoir une belle vie pour toujours

    Je viens juste te souhaiter une bonne journée par ces quelques lignes

    Bisous avec toute mon amitié
    Bernard

    Liked by 1 person

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