Revelation

Such a sight have I beheld that will never leave my memory.

Someday, I will go back, otherwise, for eternity will I be haunted by it's beauty and mystery.

Still waters,

never saw sin, but see every wrong.

Dim and mysterious, a warning to those brash enough

to disturb the tranquility.

Generation of sons,

hold fast the sun's bounty in their shimmering green surfaces.

Perfect apart from the triangle cut-out

each withhold.

As if they together cut out a piece of their radiance

and gave it as a servant's vow

to sing praises of their Maker.

Daughters as well,

breathtaking white ladies of the water.

Cherished and rare in the family,

shining in all their youth and glory.

Magnificent, but still dimmed in comparison to the water lords.

Trees,

emerge forth of the water's darkness,

roots wide and strong;

proof of strength and struggle.

Excelling towards the Heavens.

Majestic.

Overwhelmed by all grandeur, I stop and breathe,

in revelation.

Fairy Tale

And so is told as the celestial story of my life:
Once upon a time, there was a ratty village vagrant named Adelaide.
She made her home with gargoyles atop chapels shaking with the sound of monks voices.
She was an outcast, and really, preferred life as such.
Her only acquaintance was the evil dragon,
Casimir, who hated flesh and blood, and despised the hypocrisy of imperfect souls. He wrecked havoc on members of town and palace, for rank and wealth held no prejudice in his eyes. Indeed, Casimir was lord of the country, for every mortal lived in great fear of him.
Every mortal but Adelaide.
Adelaide knew him to be wise.
He delivered judgment unto those who were too cowardly to deliver it amongst themselves.
She liked him.
And he her.
He knew her to be the true soul amongst all false.
Hungry and hiding.
Yes, he liked her too.
They coexisted in harmony,
the devil,
and a fallen angel.
Somehow happy in their despair.

Bluff of the Pines

I like the bits and pieces.

I like the moss crawling on tree roots and the baskets on bikes and the pupils of a person.

That is probably the reason why I like Pinebluff.

The towering pine trees here were literally bluffed.

They were lied to and told that they would spend their existence growing in solitude,

shading the souls of the undeserving from intense southern heat.

Enclosing the mundane suburban houses while the people inside watch their T. Vs,

without a thought of gratitude towards those pines.

But their tormentors were wrong.

There is enchantment in this sleepy town,

if one would only have eyes to see.

Time stops in bounds of abandoned houses,

suffocated by foliage.

These places are perfect and generous.

Ivy flourishes on the gates and the window eyes are closed in contentment.

Listen,

listen,

and you will hear the deep green growing sound.

Like a perpetual violin's note,

like the shush of water lapping the insides of a hollow cave,

like the sound of a hummingbird's winds,

and the sound of warm hands holding you.

Can you hear it?

Those Who Don't...and Those Who Do

We, as flesh and blood, are creatures so unforgiving.

When wounded, we never trust again.

Like a beaten dog,

even when a loving hand reaches to stroke it's face,

it shies or bites.

I shy.

Amiable,

but only so many have glimpsed my true self.

Everyone else,

sees the shell,

while body and soul

run.

There is one though,

who enables me to breathe.

Rubs my back;

I can smell the warmth of his chest.

Gently kisses my eyelids;

my skittish heart releases.

I am not afraid.

Except of this vulnerability...

My Name

“Typical American name.”

I remember a boy saying, as we conversed such things while curled up in couches at my previous school.

I protested, but knew it to be true.

Typical.

My name means pure. But who is there that can boast of that high honor?

I was Katherine.

That is...until I knew better.

Katherine for girls who wear pink.

Katherine for ruffles.

Katherine for braids and dolls and tea parties.

I refused to have part with such a name.

I was Kate.

Kate for explorations.

Kate for climbing trees with boys.

Kate for skateboards and scars and big ugly bruises.

Katherine was a sissy. Kate was strong.

And it stuck.

I don't particularly mind it, though the connotation is vastly different now than then.

Kate.

Kate for short.

Kate for playfulness and uniqueness and hot pink hairbows.

Kate for black nails and white dresses.

Kate for orchids and the breath of green and music notes.

Kate for plumb and electric blue.

Kate for the dousing of turpentine.

Kate for eccentricity.

Kate for rain that takes away makeup.

Kate for playing hard to get.

Kate for getting captured.

Kate for swing sets and sparrows and Chuck Taylors.

Kate for a best friend named Jesus.

Kate.

But no one thinks those thing when my name is said.

They think how it rhymes with “ate” and is one syllable.

When 18 hits, I would like to change my name to

Adelaide.

Adelaide for two-hundred years ago.

Adelaide for moon-lit waters and trees that grow out of brick.

Adelaide.

Because I was not meant for this world.