Cafe Writing: Dearest Love...

Do not imagine, because you find these lines in your journal that I have been trespassing. You know I have not - and where else shall I leave a love letter? For I long to write you a love-letter tonight. You are all about me - I seem to breathe you, hear you, feel you in me and of me. What am I doing here? You are away. I have seen you in the train, at the station, driving up, sitting in the lamplight, talking, greeting people, washing your hands… And I am here - in your tent - sitting at your table.  ~Katherine Mansfield (in a letter to John Middleton Murray)

Pick at least three of the following words, and build a piece of writing around them. The form is up to you: poem, scene, flash-fic, essay, or general blog entry. If you want to be really daring, write a love letter, instead.

greeting, hands, imagine, leave, letter, people, train, trespassing, washing

My Dearest Love,

By the time your eyes read these words, I will be on the train, surrounded  by people who mean less than nothing to me -strangers trespassing upon my solitary grief.   

My attempts to imagine life without you are futile, even as this powerful engine speeds me ever closer to that reality.   A new life opens before you, one which can not include me.  Though I accept the inevitability of my sentence, I fear it's reality will be more painful than I can bear.  But better for me to endure this pain than for you to suffer the sorrow that our life together would entail.   For it was I who trespassed upon your life, who crossed the boundary of your home and threatened the peace of your family. 

Do you recall the day we met?  Of course you do - it is etched in your memory as it is in mine.  Your greeting was perfectly polite, yet when you took my hands in yours, you set my soul afire.  From that moment there was no retreat for either of us.

At least there wasn't until today.  This morning I watched you hold your new baby daughter, tiny Emma Grace with her auburn ringlets, her ten perfect fingers and toes.  As the four of us stood before the altar, sun burst through the Rose Window, illuminating the two of you in a perfect mist of light.  Did you notice my fingers quiver as they dipped into the font?  Did you hear those holy words catch in my throat as I uttered them?

"I baptize you..." I started out saying, wanting to continue with "my one true, and holy love, from now until death do us part."  Instead, I gave your daughter her name and consigned her future to God, through the auspices of you and your husband.  

I pray my departure does not sadden your heart overmuch, does not detract one iota of the joy you should now be feeling.  And I pray that our love remains a vibrant and joyful memory in your mind and heart.  Perhaps one day we can meet again, when we are not encumbered by our separate vows.  Whether that day be on earth or in heaven, I look forward to it with great anticipation, and I remain...

~Your Dearest Love

for Cafe Writing, February Prompt Number Three

Happy Valentine's Day

A Map of the World ~Ted Kooser

One of the ancient maps of the world is heart-shaped, carefully drawn and once washed with bright colors, though the colors have faded as you might expect feelings to fade from a fragile old heart, the brown map of a life. But feeling is indelible, and longing infinite, a starburst compass pointing in all the directions two lovers might go, a fresh breeze swelling their sails, the future uncharted, still far from the edge where the sea pours into the stars.

I found this poem quite by accident this morning, in one of those circuitous blog explorations which I couldn't retrace if my life depended upon it.   And I copied it inside my husband's Valentine's Day card,  because I loved so much this last bit...

But feeling is indelible, and longing infinite, a starburst compass pointing in all the directions two lovers might go, a fresh breeze swelling their sails, the future uncharted, still far from the edge where the sea pours into the stars.

We've had 35 Valentine's Days, my husband and I, and in recent years have barely taken notice of  its passing.   Kooser's words here remind me that feelings needn't fade from our "fragile old hearts," that  we still can follow the "starburst compass pointing in all directions," can sail off on a fresh breeze with our future uncharted. 

Here's to opening the map, smoothing out the creases, and setting our faces to the wind.

Happy Valentine's Day :)

Outrage

Last October, my friend H., a  Compuware employee for 16 years, was called into a conference room along with about 50 co-workers where they were all informed their positions were being eliminated.  They had 30 minutes to vacate the premises.   H., who at age 62 was looking forward to retirement in about three years, was denied the opportunity to say goodbye to friends or co-workers, or to make any preparations for his future. "Feel free to re-apply for another position within the company," the newly unemployed folks were told.  Right.

Yesterday,  along with announcing another round of approximately 300 lay-offs, Compuware announced one notable new hire.  It's  former Detroit Mayor, Kwame Kilpatrick, who was forced to resign from office in the wake of a major scandal involving cheating and lying of every possible sort, a scandal that dragged on for months and left this already beleagured city  9 million dollars poorer.  Kilpatrick,  recently released from jail after serving a (laughable) 99 day sentence as punishment for his crimes, will transfer to the company's Dallas office, where his job will entail getting governmental health care programs in the south and southeastern United States online.

"Regardless of what you think, regardless of all the stuff that has happened, people should understand this is a very, very talented human being, and frankly, I want to take advantage of that," Peter Karmanos, Compuware CEO, said in this morning's Detroit Free Press.

Talented? At what?  Cheating people? Being morally reprehensible?  Lying?  Mismanagement of city funds?   Could one of his "talents" lie in the fact that his mother, Congresswoman Carloyn Kilpatrick, sits on the House Ways and Means Committee?

Frankly, I wouldn't trust this man to take out my garbage.

This is just the sort of disheartening news which lands a sucker punch to this soul-weary state.  At a time when thousands of hardworking, honest people in the state of Michigan have lost their jobs, it is nothing short of  an outrage to hand over a plum position to a man who abused his power and defrauded an entire city.  How about a break for some of us ordinary folks, whose needs are simply taking care of our families, paying our bills on time, and trying to live the best life we possibly can?  

Sure, I know we can't all be as "extremely talented" as our vaunted ex-Mayor, but I'm willing to bet there's a few good minds wandering around out here somewhere.

Cafe Writing ~ Picture of My Heart

...should I draw you the picture of my heart it would be what I hope you would still love though it contained nothing new.  The early possession you obtained there, and the absolute power you have obtained over it, leaves not the smallest space unoccupied."   Abigail Adams (in a letter to John Adams)

Picture my heart 35 years ago, so young and supple, untouched by worry over children or jobs or parents failing health.  It was strong and open, ready to be taken and cherished, certain to be loyal and true.  Now picture you, a quiet and lonely young man, one whose heart was wary of love, for in his experience love was a tight fist, a choke hold, an agreement destined to be broken.

Yet you found the courage to pick up a pencil and began to draw, soft and velvety lines upon my heart.   The picture you drew in those early days remain...your endless wonder at love's ability to nurture and forgive, your amazement at the power of love's growth, your excitement at the possibilities love could open within a life. 

There in my heart the images remain... when I was first learning to drive, you would drive your car in front of mine on those mornings when fog hung thick in the air, the four square tailights on the black '71 Mach One my beacon to follow along the mysterious path before me.  And there you are, sitting on the floor playing games with our son, while I go to college classes at night.  Still later, when my parents divorce sends me reeling, you step in with your signature strenght and common sense to care for my mother and me.   Not very long ago, our only child grown and gone, you filled our empty nest with comfort, caring, and love.

So here I am, my heart older now and scarred with the hurts of time.  Yet these are the pictures which remain indelibly inked upon it.  The pictures that have given you power and provenance over this beating organ of mine.  It is yours now, forever.  There is no space unoccupied.

for Cafe Writing, February

Option Four, Timed Writing

Sunday Scribblings - Art

"It does no good to wire the world if you short circuit the spirit..."

Voices raised in song...rays of sunlight beaming through stained glass windows...the gentle undulations of a silk scarf draped round a woman's shoulder...art in many forms surrounded me this afternoon as I sat in a corner pew soaking up the unbelievable sounds of a college choir. 

Music feeds my soul -  especially choral music, because it combines the two art forms I love most dearly, it juxtaposes music and language together in a complete artistic thought.  Today's young musicians, The St. Olaf College Choir, exemplified the epitome of choral singing, their purity of tone and expression oozing directly from their souls.  The great Anton Armstrong, their conductor, spoke of music being an expression of their connection to God and a "dynamic means of grace."

Art is grace, isn't it?  For those who make it and those who partake of its essence.  Yes, the world depends on science and technology, depends on wires and engines.  But the soul depends on art- on the beauty of sound and melody, of colors of paint on a canvas, the perfect sentence in black and white on the page.   Art is what connects us to the spirit, to a mystical place of wonder where pain and suffering are mitigated, where we connect with our own deeper humanity.   

What good is all the wizardry of the modern world if the  soul is dark and bare? If only everyone could find an artistic spark with which to ignite their spirit,  then what a difference in the wiring of our whole world!

for Sunday Scribblings

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