Page: Profile: Poetry
||Total Views: 13,883,848
VxPoem ID: 39603
Posted: January 23rd. 2011 12:07:40 AM
A Tale of Twin Hearts
Age Group: Adult
It is there he sits, on the edge of the once barren field. The smile on his face, wide and bright as he looks upon this fate he has created. He has come full circle. Regret is now a long forgotten memory. Amused, he ponders the pitying thoughts of others. Those who would believe he has or is or does or even feels nothing. In fact, it is quite the opposite that could not be more true. For he has been given the keys to the land outstretched before him. A healer and guide in the wake of this world’s afflictions. His days consumed by the battles that linger far beyond this mortal stage. But it is there, across the field, whilst the colors of both earth and sky meld into infinity, is his number one, unarguably his greatest responsibility. It is where he finds his greatest peace, as she stands silently contemplating the flurry of rose petals to come, oblivious to his stare. Too, he knows that if for even a moment, if one single bit of that existence were to cease, the darkness on either side would be immeasurable. Though at this very moment he would like nothing more than to pick up the shiniest little rock he could find and peg her with it, if for nothing more than to hear her response. For he knows, all too well what that would bring and it is those moments he cherishes most.
More oft than not his role is almost father like as eerie as that sounds, though it is true none the less, protecting her with every ounce of being inside him. How many times he has seen the result of deviant thoughts bred in the minds of those exiled as the outcasts of humanity. Even on days where he is seemingly absent, there is always someone there, to watch over and keep still. He would not have it any other way. Even more so are the nights he lies awake. Her arms wrapped so tightly around him as he tames the fears raging inside her. He thinks back to the formative years how he taught her to hear and to listen, to decipher for herself right from wrong. To follow direction was the most difficult of all. He laughs as he thinks of sending her on wild goose chases, to find something anything. A book, a picture, whatever it was it didn’t matter. Watching her was enough, walking with her down dimly lit streets, how intently she listened, trying so hard for him. “Walk down that street, make a right, now make a left, go straight, you’ll know it when you see it, here it comes, are you ready, now wait………wait………no, not yet……ok now you are going to look to your right and tell me what you see.” He could feel the excitement coursing through her. She was going to do this for him. She had to, so she thought, to make him proud. Though in truth, she would need nothing more than to just be, to make him happy. And so it was that he could hardly contain himself as he stood awaiting her reaction to the treasure she had stumbled upon, which in reality was nothing more than a string of brilliantly glowing pumpkin lights that read the word “BOO”. It was a silent walk home for sure, save for the birth of the most endeared pet name he was given, as censored as it may be, for all the nicknames that have been placed upon him, this certainly would be his favorite and to this day he will always, without hesitation, answer to it.
But this is neither a day of anguish or anxiety. It is but a simple day of reflection as he sits watching. Her aura like rose colored pixie dust glittering in her wake. Knowing from whence she came. He smiles yes but it’s not always easy to let her go. As she journeys upon a sea of contentment, though this to some extent is of his own doing. He remembers long ago, how he tried unsuccessfully to invoke even a single memory. But by fifteen the pain, his pain, was too excruciating for even her to bear. Just a mere picture of him brought with it a flood of emotion. Anxiety, depression, fear, heart wrenching fear was enough to bring tears as she spoke aloud to herself, begging him to get help. It was no surprise she had blocked even the minutest detail of his life and all that accompanied. By sixteen her own pain was nothing less than emotional homicide. On November 19, 1986 somewhere between the moments of 8:20 and 8:30am, any remnant of the life she knew had been completely obliterated, everything gone in a fraction of a second. By her mid 20’s she was nothing less than a wild child, opinionated and unforgiving, sabotaging herself at every turn. Along with a handful of snide remarks she would make to herself she snubbed her nose at the little hints he’d leave. Her absolute refusal to listen was at best the most frustrating moment of his existence. I’m not sure even he knows what it was that made him stay. Ego maybe, perhaps it was that he just couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He certainly had no warning a few years later when the images returned, pummeling her. Like a bullet, every thought, every feeling, every good morning, every goodnight, every are you ok today, every word she had ever uttered during those early days in the silence of her room coursed through her mind. Even he wasn’t prepared for the complexity of it all. The shock overwhelming him for what seemed an eternity, how could it be? How, when only a select few knew, how could she have? Definitely not what he had expected and with each wave the past replayed itself. The pain grew stronger and was as real as it had been the day she first experienced it, with only one difference and that was that guilt had been added to the mix of torturous emotion. She knew and did nothing. What if she had, would things be different she thought? Probably not but it didn’t matter, all she could think was that she knew and worst of all she just left him there. Now all these years later he thinks back and laughs to himself. Honestly at 13 what could she have done? Still, knowing the person she has become he imagines it would have been something brilliant, in his eyes anyway. He knows because he’s seen, watched as she witnessed anger turn to bliss that turned to pain, the same pain though from a different heart, a twin heart. He watched her put herself out there for nothing more than to stop history from repeating itself because she could not bear the thought of it happening again. Thankfully that agony has subsided for the most part though still rears its head every now and again. He fears it, but he is thankful to be the one who holds her while she holds another though every aching moment. She allows him to be the strong one, to make decisions, to say no when it’s necessary, though he finds himself saying it much less often than he should. But if truth be told it is he who is in awe of her strength and how every day she fights like hell just to make it through on her own terms.
So it is that it has come to this, twenty years in the making. He sits and cannot help but to smile as she steals his heart yet again amidst a flurry of rose petals, graced by a trust that spans far beyond reason and love like nothing he has ever know or felt. Everything happens for a reason. People change, circumstances change, but hearts that have been broken, with the just the right amount of guidance will only grow stronger. Though he knows that he will, when the moment is right, set her free to fly, he knows too that without a shadow of a doubt to where she’ll return. For this is his home, their home and for that matter will always be.
Author's Notes: I haven't written anything in awhile and I guess I just felt like telling a story. Sorry for the lengthiness.
Author's Location: North Lauderdale, Florida
More Poems: SilverAngelFire has posted 417 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about SilverAngelFire - Click HERE
Contact Me Via Email...
Email Invites Note: Yes! I have opted to receive invites to Pagan events, groups, and commercial sales
Disclaimer: The Witches' Voice inc does not verify the accuracy of the details stated in this listing, nor do we vouch for the value of the goods or services presented here... As with all contacts and financial dealings in cyberspace, we encourage you to use caution and wisdom in your dealings with strangers.
Political Statements: Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wren's Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witches' Voice, Inc. TWV is a non-profit, non-partisan educational organization.
State/Country flags created by 3dflags.com and are used with permission
Web Site Content (including: text - graphics - html - look & feel)
Copyright 1997-2017 The Witches' Voice Inc. All rights reserved
Note: Authors & Artists retain the copyright for their work(s) on this website.
Unauthorized reproduction without prior permission is a violation of copyright laws.
Website structure, evolution and php coding by Fritz Jung on a Macintosh G5.
Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wrenâ€™s Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witchesâ€™ Voice, Inc. TWV is a nonprofit, nonpartisan educational organization.
Sponsorship: Visit the Witches' Voice Sponsor Page for info on how you
can help support this Community Resource. Donations ARE Tax Deductible.
The Witches' Voice carries a 501(c)(3) certificate and a Federal Tax ID.
Mail Us: The Witches' Voice Inc., P.O. Box 341018, Tampa, Florida 33694-1018 U.S.A.