When it was over, we...

When it was over, we didn’t know it. Life didn’t flag this up as being the last time. There was no falling out, barely even a falling away.

Things carried on as normal, busy, a little more distance.

It was only looking back, to that day walking along the promenade, that we realised we had lost something. Fallen out of love.

Written as an exercise at the Cardiff Bay Writing Group meeting; write something starting with the sentence fragment "When it was over, we..."

#awakeaugust 31

A pick me up at the end of an era, kind words, hugs and an espresso martini. A new veneer of sophistication

fading places

Mostly on business trips, I get to see the inside of a hotel room and the inside of a range of factories. This last week I went to Israel, one of those places that had never been on my "must see" list, and I wasn't really looking forward to it all that much, mostly because of the high temperatures. We arrived as it got dark on Sunday evening, in the speeded up way that dusk falls in countries nearer to the equator, when I am used to the long northern European evenings. 

There were five of us travelling together, including one of my best friends, and we managed to have some time to make a couple of evening trips, firstly to Jerusalem (more of which later), and secondly to the Dead Sea. I read this weekend that unless millions of gallons of water are pumped into the sea, it will disappear in the next 50 years. We drove through hilly desert to get to the sea at Neve Zohar, the colours in the desert ranging from double cream to butterscotch, to burnt meringue... (yes, I was hungry as we drove through there)

As we got near, signs at the road's edge indicated how close we were to sea level, and then we dipped below, and still the sea lay far below that. It was striated with barriers, banks, build ups of salt and sand, looking more like the edges of Holland, where the sea is enclosed in order to drain it for land. I'm not sure why the banks are here, I assume they are emerging naturally as a result of the continual evaporation. As we got to the water we could see the salt crusts bulging out of the water, the banking process starting up in miniature. The sun was setting behind the desert hills, and opposite, the "coast" of Jordan was rinsed in an appropriately rosy light.

The salt lines meandered across the water, astonishingly turquoise where there were deeper pools. Dividing and fractal, they fingered they way under the surface, poking through in places and segregating the sea into lakes, pools. The skin of the earth pushing out the natal fluid. Grasses at the edge of the sea turn into crusty coral polyps. The landscape is fading away.

blasted

blasted but beautiful still

in its way, most days

I drive right by

but I stopped this morning,

I wanted to see

if it still lived

with its heart splintered so

Route 66

It is the time of night when walking through the town alone garners atttention, the world at large is gathering socially, in groups of friends, or over-friendly couples.  To get home untouched requires an extra veneer of noli me tangere, though it is unlikely that anyone would wish to touch in any case.  Age, size, and above all, singularity puts the figure at odds with the vague revelatory mood of a small town Saturday night.  The autumn night is damp, on the borderline between fog and drizzle, making the streetlights cast a spattered glow.  Too much attention, later, when the emergency vehicles cast their blue strobing lights intrusively across the scene,   no longer anything that can be touched.  The traffic news talks only of "an incident" on the Strassenbahn 66...

one day i will be able to say no (and mean it)

this clean period
recovering you addict,
through soggy summer.

underneath...

there is nothing left
I visited our home land,
you would not see me

I wish I didn't know what you were going through...

sore sore eyes and sick
sore heart. he made me love him,
it was mutual.

nothing helps heartache,
left as nothing, self slides down
he tramples shared dreams.

friends hold out their hands
but I can't touch human warmth,
it's too much contrast.

beaten and left for dead

No coffin for this
love killed by your thoughtlessness;
naked mouldering.

what about me? I hate waiting...

My needs ploughed under
dark soil so yours can grow, forced
to my fallow time.

I don't want to plough that field anymore...

Storm tossed reeds bounce back,
"you are strong, independent,
she needs me," he pleads.

the weather with you

I am too weak and
you are too tempting, please
leave like a stormcloud.