Sand falls from an outstretched hand.
Vibrantly white, soft as talcum powder.
Toes dig in seeking shade from the sun
On a sweltering hot day under pale blue skies.
A bead of sweat rolls down her neck,
only to be cooled by a warm breeze.
Waves lap onto the shore,
Washing thoughts and stress away.
Now she’s ready to live another day.
A crack of thunder makes me jump.
Lightning flashes through windows
illuminating the dark evening sky.
Rain hits the house, building to a low roar,
as the wind slaps the oak branches on the roof.
Finally, outside calms to a distant rumble.
I settle back in, adjusting my pillow,
while a steady rhythm of rain returns
lulling me to sleep.
I love rainy nights.
Frozen smiles plastered on lips,
Masks and Sunglasses blocking bloodshot eyes.
Messed hair tucked up into wigs and hats.
Let the Masquerade begin.
Frivolity, spinning, around and around.
Lovely clothes hang from corpse-like bodies.
Make-up cakes their ashen skin.
Let the Masquerade begin.
Hiding behind their masks, never letting it be seen.
Their exhaustion, their age, their wanting to leave.
They push through wondering when.
Will this Masquerade ever end?
Her little nose makes this sound,
Not a mew, but a wee little snore.
She curls against my leg,
Her fur warms my hip
As she dreams away.
She’s my little shadow
And sometimes she takes the lead,
Especially when she wants
water from the tap
Or a little fresh air
from an open window.
But tonight she is content,
licking the air as she sleeps,
off in her kitty dreamland.
At least it held off until I was safely parked.
On a call, early morning, less than 4 hours of sleep that night,
Still recovering from a weekend of 40 plus hours of work,
Needing to stay awake, a nutri-grain bar and ice cold water,
I thought it would do the trick, and I was wrong.
Sleep, Sleep, It’s what I need.
Slurring my words, dizziness, and nausea,
all three setting in. Then my eyes filled with tears.
So damn exhausted. “Are you okay?” I hear.
I utter out no, resting my head against the wheel.
The insignia on my car horn blurred.
Sleep, Sleep, It’s what I need.
I knew I was in trouble, but it wasn’t over yet.
“Do you need us to call 911?” “No, I need sleep.”
Helped by two managers, I stumbled through the door,
we found our way to a quiet room.
Still confused, tired and nauseous,
I was too sick to be embarrassed any more.
Sleep, sleep, it’s what I need.
My husband arrived to drive me home.
The drive back was no easier,
waves of sickness between mini naps.
My eyes bruised from the nausea,
my face swollen too. Heavy eyelids,
Sleep, sleep, it’s what I need.
I was lucky; I made it safely to a place where people could help. I forget I’m no longer young, and not able to bounce back like I did when I was in my twenties. This was a lesson for me, a scare for my family, and I hope it reaches someone who may need to hear it. Please, learn from me, don’t drive when you’re tired.
He was 72, with so much more life to live.
Five foot – ten, and never over 176.
Healthy except for a bad back and leg.
Loved to swim, but soreness overcame.
He smoked, and when the pain was bad,
he smoked more than a pack a day.
He wasn’t here to walk me down the aisle;
He missed so much that day and more,
A massive coronary took him from us,
Suddenly and without warning.
Now I am sad when I hear of loved ones
Who still smoke. I want to take them
By their arms, shake them, let them see
The tears in my eyes when I plead.
I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t smoke.
Twenty eight hours, with just an hour of real rest. No, this isn’t right.
Bed, now.
Swinging wide, stumbling through wal-world to pick up some essentials.
Never felt this tired. So exhausted , I can’t sleep.
Safely in a room, freezing cold.
Taking a little time to unwind.
Hoping slumber finds me soon.
And maybe a few sweet dreams too.
Just to start again early tomorrow.
Woosh…woosh…the rotating door goes round.
We’d play with the door to the darkroom,
Around and around. I remember.
Feeding the film onto the reel,
Click, clack, click, in total darkness,
Fumbling for the canister and the lid
Sealing it tight to develop negatives.
You helped me learn. I remember.
Running the water bath, pulling out the trays,
Pouring the chemicals, developer and stop,
Working in the red light. I remember.
Focusing, exposing, developing.
Long talks, close friendship,
Sharing our troubles and dreams,
You taught me so much. I remember.
Sometimes I wonder, do you?
Drooping eyes, bloodshot and heavy-lidded,
Dark circles frame my brown beauties.
Shoulders tight, each muscle clinched,
Feeling the blood pump through my arms.
Sore neck and back, hip and leg out of place.
All of this from stress I put on myself.
Laying awake, telling myself not to worry,
but my mind fights me night after night.
Did I catch all the details? Do I have it right?
It’s reaching the peak and can’t come soon enough.
Once it is done, a brief relief, but more work will begin,
Starting back up, more late nights and long days.
Perfectionists are far from perfect, this I know.
But it doesn’t stop my stress or my mind.
Can we please win the lottery now?
Her wings were weak from not using them for so long. As she stretched them open, she could feel the tendons and ligaments moving in unfamiliar ways.
I need to fly again. I need to go somewhere new. She pondered to herself in the moonlight.
She flapped her wings and caught some air under them, lifting into the night sky. Flying was harder than she remembered as she moved her wings to catch more air. Finally she found a current and floated along the lake shore. She closed her eyes just a moment, feeling joy for once in ages. A smile spread across her face.
Suddenly, the wind stilled, and she began to lose altitude. Her instincts on how to land however did not kick in quite in time. She found herself sliding into grass and dirt, twisting. Her body slid between two rocks and her foot became entwined in some tangle roots between them, stopping her forward slide. She felt the pull of the roots up her leg as she rolled over to a seated position, folding in her wings.
Slowly she freed her foot from the tangle, then tried to stand up. Her ankle gave way and she leaned against the boulder she just missed hitting her head on to prevent herself from falling. Her ankle crackled and popped as she rotated it. It didn’t feel broken, just twisted.
Gently, she set her foot back down and tested it. It would hold until she could get back to the sanctum. Slowly she limped away from the lake, knowing she needed to tend to it. In the near distance, she could see the willow huts her people called home. Getting home was slow, but she made it.
She arrived at her hut, a small dome-shaped nestle among the larger family homes. The willow branches were woven into a basket pattern and packed to keep out the rains and mist. A small heart shaped window adorned the front of the home aside the entrance; her people found it good fortune to introduce shapes representing your desires. The other side displayed an archers bow and arrow. It was a reminder for her that when life pulls you back, it can launch you further forward than you ever dreamed.
Tonight she smirked at herself, unsure if a twisted ankle was just a foolish thing or one of those moments. She wished for the latter as she stumbled inside. She lit a candle to bring light into her home. The decor was sparse, but meaningful. Her grandmother’s handmade piece quilt lay across her thatch bed. A small wooden table for two made by her Da’ sat near her makeshift kitchen. There wasn’t a need for much when just one lives in a place like this.
She made her way to the small bath. Her people understood how to plumb their homes with running water. She found a swath of material and wrapped her twisted ankle to provide it support, then made her way to the bed to elevate it. She blew out the candle and laid there, wondering about the ridge, wondering what lay beyond. As her eyes grew heavy, she gave in to slumber and dreams.
Dawn Renee Writes 