THE WHITE GATE
Sometimes I dream, at twilight, in my garden’s quiet peace; when the gracious dusk envelops, and life’s sorrows seem to cease. I gaze beyond the gateway with its trail of woodbine sweet, and dream I hear the footfall of your little spirit feet. Someday I too shall follow your steps through the woodbine gate, my eyes no longer weeping-my heart no more desolate. No need to tear the woodbine, for God’s invisible hand will lead my soul through the gateway and then I shall understand.
REFUSAL
I wonder, sitting with my legs dangling in the clear rock pool, the sun reflecting the patterns of the little waves onto my feet, I wonder… if there is reward for this refusal of Life’s very best-or what I deem to be life’s best. Perhaps it is worth refusing to love the one person I can’t stop loving. In giving up-we gain oblivion’s rest. Will God remember or forget the strife of this poor heart which must be restrained and passionless? Something so pure and wonderful is seen as so wrong here, among the rules of human beings. How strange love is, I think, touching the water with my fingertips. It is cold and smooth. There is a school of fish that swim on by, lazily they look up at me and nod in unison before flapping their tails and heading on. This gesture of hello does not wake me from my depth of thought. The subject of life. How sad it is. The best it gives us, the one I love and me… is forgetfulness! But how to forget? Is it that easy to sink into this oblivion people so strive towards?
THOUGHT
I head back down the sandy lane, past the palms and the fig trees, the many different glittering shells laid carefully in patterns on the sands. I duck under a rose bush, sprouting pink and yellow roses, fully in bloom and singing softly into the caressing breeze. Here starts a maze that will eventually take me to where I am meant to go. I step into the hedge and its roots cling to my clothes. I shove them away and enter. There is no path. Just a vast expanse of grass. It is dawn! With the wonders night concealed, I blink and turn around to take a look behind me, where the hedge should be but is not. It is just a sky. Noon! With Life’s beating heart revealed. I reach out to touch it. It makes me bold. It goes dark suddenly, the only light a large lion on a hill, looking up into this ever changing sky and it is Eve! With her gentle touch; and tender night now comes on with her silver pall of splendour. I am left in semi light, with a lion calling my name.
APART
I know I must go through this long field to get to the lion calling my name with such mystery and music. At first the field is grass, wet with pearly dew but as my feet touch it, it grows high above my head and sprouts many pointy leaves! Marijuana plants swirl around my legs and arms, touch my face. Their different greens pinks and purples mesmerise me until I forget to find…who? Some of the sugary THC I examine forms into a butterfly, sappy and unprepared it floats into my mouth and I see a flash of APART, you are so far from me you seem as but the echo, echo, echo of a dreamer Dream, but waking still I hold you close and see a mirage of our loves sweet ecstasy. My sticky eyes open. And we are sitting under a great cherry blossom tree, pink blossoms spilling from its branches onto our naked bodies. So close to you, so close to me, sweet ecstasy. Alone at last.
I am back in the field. Oh! Vision fairer of heaven more than earth, where do you come from? Who gave your spirit birth? Why am I so different? Help me forget that love to us was born, knowing I have to go my way alone. My eyes no longer sticky, I am wide awake and the leaves are shrinking until they are miniature flowers in rainbow colours scattering the ground. Lion, lion, Where are you?
I take a deep breath of this fresh new air and start to float. At first it is slow and I barely notice my feet aren’t touching the soft ground. My excitement builds and soon I am shooting up and up into the sky. Quite strangely I now see
EARTH
White enveloped earth. Clad in the fallen snow, ah a passionless earth, cold is your touch, I know. But then, as I watch from afar in gloom and passive resistance the view of the world changes; tender and fragrant earth, waking to life again, soft yielding earth, warm with the sweet spring rain. It hits me first as it falls.
And now blazoning crimson earth! Pulsing with life and love, responsive earth, kissed by the sun above.
The view changes and now I am on the ground. It is misty. There are many big trees and a large lake, moss circles each tree and the mushrooms everywhere glow red and white. Mystical carpeted earth, with dead leaves of desire, disrobing earth, dying beneath loves fire. I feel as If I can’t breathe. Like smoke claws at lungs, taking the breath out of me. I start to cry. “What is it?” the big cats face is right in front of mine, purple and blue, it is not only a lion but an owl too. How strange. “What do you mean?” I ask, wiping my hot messy tears. “Why are you so miserable?” his brow was furrowed and it seemed he really wanted to know. His paw edged closer to my shoulder and slowly his fur started to recede, his claws soaking into the ground, his paw was now the soft, thin, feminine hand of the one I loved. Gasping, I look up to see her face. Her brown and grey eyes searching mine so deeply for the answer, how to unlock my pain?
LEAVETAKING
“Let me not see your eyes, it is better so, for with their look might come life’s overthrow. I cannot speak of my love! It is fates decree that speechless love is all between you and me.” So miserable am I, saying this to her, knowing it must be, crying so hard that I can no longer see, I say, and “So it must be goodbye. But…place your hands in mine; and I can say, finally, you understand. She understands!” I laugh and jump up to take her hand but there is only the night, and how hushed the silent heavens are! The clear, cold moonlight lies on all around, and one big bright star shines forth from out the skies. I shout, “Shine on, star! And let your beams illuminate all my way!” and I will now hope, nor wake from dreams until the breaking day. Could this all be a dream?
As if to laugh at me, a loud wind blew me away from the night and onto a small boat in the middle of the sea. I am completely unaccompanied, I know, and the earth, sea and wind chant your great song of love; heaven, space and time echo it from above. The waves start to leap over the boat, the water is icy. Lilies float on the now rocking surface, white flowers and blue, turbulent motions. The wind starts to whistle and it hurts my ears. Water chokes me as it splashes over board. I am frightened but I stand straight and let out, ‘blow out your strength, you stormy winds of fate! To this end born, from time predestinate; to this end live, to this end die: in death to find completer unity.’ At that the storm apologised and left, knowing I was not afraid of death.
Finally I am deposited on the shore that winds into a driveway, through a woodbine gate, where the lies a little cottage, white with a thatched roof and cloudy looking candyfloss pink roses crawling from the doorways and windows. Finally home, I step through the door into a bright room. Dark wood, a shining polished floor bounces with the sunlight.
No one is here to greet me.
ALONE
I only moved in here a week ago. It is yet to be a home. Now it is just an escape from what I feel. Some escape. I could not so did not stay to think what would befall my life, nor count the cost of risking all my love in one frail bark. Now, watching outside, storm clouds gather fast, it feels as if my sails are torn by ruthless winds and I am left forlorn-rudderless on life’s sea.
THREE DAYS
Do you remember, Love, the day we met? The sun shone bright, though all the earth was wet with glistening drops; like tears by Angels shed-and how the sunset sky blazed gold and red.
You were standing under a tree alone, examining its bark. Your long hair blew around your face as your head moved and your hands traced the grains in the wood. I walked up to you, “what are you doing?” you jumped slightly. Your eyes were round and your breathing fast, could you have already known. You smiled, “listening to this trees tale of life.” How I wanted to listen in too but I had to pass. I had to leave to be where I was meant to be. The funny thing about destiny…is it comes back to you when least expect it. I thought of you often afterwards. Your curves and your smile, your wise eyes and your words. And then again we met, it was dawn and it was flushed with rosy light, a peerless morn, a vision of fair seas-a land of flowers. Oh Love; I thank you that this day will always be ours. Seeing her stand in the land of flowers, spinning slowly around to take it all in, excited and laughing. We went beautiful places, my Love. From forests to the sea, and all the while you were next to me.
And yet another day has taken this one’s place and all is over. Wild foaming waves madly caressed the shore; bare trees and rain-drenched earth around us lay, no ray of gold to gild love’s dying day.
SPRING
So much time has passed and still I am plagued with flashbacks and secret longing. No one has found me. Are they even looking? Sometimes I walk and find things to occupy my mind. There is so much here to see. But it is nothing real without clarity. I wonder what you are doing now, and if you are wondering the same thing about me. Or have you moved on…to someone called John. Am I now experimentation to you. Something to laugh off or hide ashamedly?
I am sitting outside, it is spring! There is a blossoming orchard in front of me, calling me in. Spring! And the call of a bird, “Lorma, Lorma, Lorma, come away with me.” It sings, Spring in the heart of a young women, spring! What a magical word.
Spring and the daffodil golden, spring and the hyacinth blue, violets in the warm wet earth, at my touch they live anew. Spring in your luxuriant attire, it is you who could make me one with the beating heart of nature; one with the stars and sun! Spring in the love-bewildered air, spring in the warm scented rain. Exquisite season of promise, exquisite season of pain.
I decide to step into the orchard with its many fragrances changing my mind. Each step and the ground almost shakes with antici—–pation. I touch the grey bark; feel the petals float through my hair, down my face. The light here is strange. There are noises; whistles, birds talking, foxes scattering from under my feet. A guitar plays softly far away. Birds tweet, “follow me, Lorma Leigh!” I follow the guitar and the birds.
Finally, nearly breathless I find the source of the music; a small clearing, the trees arranged in a circle around a girl strumming on an emerald coloured guitar. “Lorma!” she exclaims as I come near. “Sit with me and sing?” she asks. Her eyes are pale green and orange from up close. Her nose is thin and slanted upwards. Her hair falls like waves down her back and shoulders. She is pale and wearing nothing but the guitar. Breath-taking. I sit down. “Who are you?” I ask. She continues to play but searches my eyes… as if I already know. This can’t be Stella. “No, not her.” She sighs. “You can read my mind?” I gasp. “No.” shaking her head she points to a long thin grey tree, and here etched in its bark is the word Stella with a question mark. How very peculiar. “You are one with the trees here. What you desire most is written on a tree of your choice, carved into one bark. Your one love, I should think?” I nod slowly, taking this in. Her music gets louder and I am left alone in darkness the trees, the clearing, the girl have all melted away into darkness. The only light is STELLA? Looming in front of my eyes. “Why did you leave me, Lorma?” comes her voice, a ghostlike whisper, almost unreal. “Why? Because it isn’t right, to love you, Stella. Not the way I do. No one will accept it and so I am pushed. How to love in a world where I am numb? To see you with others, smiling and laughing as if I made no impact on your life.” Her face is suddenly in front of mine, her eyes wide and she is crying. “If love were all, then I would take your hand and we would wander to some far-off land where sunshine is, where lilies fair and tall fill the air with fragrance. If love were all!” her eyes leak big opal tears. “I wish I could make you understand…if love were all! Then I would kiss your eyes, seeing in them my promised paradise. I would weave for your brow a garland posy rare, kissing the loosened tendrils of your hair.” Her lips touched my cheek, brushing up the bone to my crying eyes and then my hair. I mutter back, “if love were all I should not stand apart with empty arms and lonely aching heart. Well, that may not comfort you, nor make you forget the leaden burden of a great regret-if love were all! Exasperated I push her away and I am back in the clearing. No one is there so I decide to go back, shaking; I want to lie down in a warm bed. It takes less than a minute to come back to the cottage. I walk up the stairs two at a time, turn into my bedroom and flop onto the bed. I close my eyes, my wet eyelashes gluing together for sleep.
MY GARDEN
Dawn in my dewy garden. Dawn and the fresh sweet smell of the unused day in its pureness, in the garden I now love so well. I stretch, roll over, fall onto the wooden floor, and get up dazed and confused. I look out the window at my garden, ever changing to suit v=everyone who inhabits it. I get up and press my face against the col window. Breathe hot air onto its surface and write Stella? Before blowing over it and then rubbing it out thoroughly. I go downstairs to make myself some sweet tea before starting the day. Alone, but never without adventure here. I catch my reflation in a small mirror over my dresser and get up to look at me closer. My hair is long, thin and the colour of the inside of a lemon, white yellow shining. Brown eyes that cry every day and… all of a sudden the light changes outside. Noon! In my drowsy garden, noon and a quivering heat, a lark soaring free in high heaven. I run outside, there are whirring insects at my feet. I am laughing at this sudden change. The insects rise to meet and greet me. All of them are so very colourful. But they aren’t just insects, goodness no. Fey Folk come to visit. I dance with them and as I spin I forget the throbbing pain that normally devours my heart.
Night in my moonlit garden, night with her subtle spell cast over the slumbering flowers in the garden I love so well.
The End
Fiction This 