Friday, July 07, 2006

angels with silver wings

Its not for me to mourn something I never knew, to cry over someone I never lost. I don’t want to pick over the ashes of the remains of the day. Its not right for me to keep my silence for two minutes just because the papers tell me to. Silence cant stitch together the holes we tear in time.

I don’t want to be told when to remember any more than when to forget. Within my mind all knowledge is mine - to play, rewind and erase as I see fit. I don’t want mourning marked on my calendar like the chalk lines around cartoon murder victims.

I want to be surprised. I want to be scared. I want to be caught unawares and grabbed by the throat by a memory best left forgotten. I want to be made to remember something that didn’t happen rather than something that did.

On Sunday 4th June memory paid an unexpected visit. A chance call to remind me that she guides my hand more than I care to admit. A year to the day and she called my name - turned my head from rain to flame. She is the messenger - the bright burning angel who speaks for the silenced. Singing songs of echoes of echoes of echoes.

And to take myself back to where I began, I tell you that what she told me is not yours to know. But I’ll give you a precious fragment of what she gave me, that -

The truest promises are those that never come to pass.

On Sunday 4th June, in a place not made for your eyes I wrote -

‘This is a blank space. A series of backspaces to erase what was previously laid. To pick it up in its delicate entirety - and carry it to another place, another day.’

This is that place. And today is that day.


teawiththebirds said...

Remembering has been the theme of a lot of your recent posts. With every one I am reminded of something that I need to remember or to forget.

And today my mind is wanderig to the 'might've beens' and the 'nearlies'. The things that didn't happen. Thank you for making me think. Really think...

The Clown said...

Have you ever wondered that even though we think of future as following a linear path, time itself is cyclic? Perhaps, future is the longest past we live in. Smile

fjl said...

God is a concept by which we measure our pain..

I'll say it again..

Lennon x

modern anxiety said...

I'm in a maze
every corner leads
to where I have already been

I'm in a garden
the paths join & sever
in equal measures

I'm drowning in the flood
the water tastes me
it fills me

I'm in the city
every car crash reminds me
of a long-forgotten memory

I'm in the desert
the paradox of the horizon
shields me as I cry there

I am alone in history
100 years have passed
since now and then

I'm out at sea
the line I traced in the sand
became the path to no man's land

I am of the skies
angels of heaven join together
and carry me back down

I'm on the land
everybody turns to stone
as I watch the river dry up.