~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: IX~
By WordWulf, 1st Mar 2011 | Follow this author
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I forgot to remember who said these things~hatred is a very unestimated emotion~whomever fights monsters should be careful not to become one~do a thing~do it well~leave something witchy behind~I became insane between horrible intervals of sanity~fear is the mother of morality~
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: IX~
~Women In the Room~
The kitchen has joined the rest of the house. I heard it sizzling behind me just now. The first time I heard that sound, five or six years ago, sitting outside, you were holding my hand. Lines of lights split the night before us in the yard, slithering down, popping through the grass, they sizzled.
You stood before us, spoke words in a round room, addressing the death of my mother, the room in which we were married and now weeping, your words full of spirit and love. You have decided to leave us at the wayside. It is incomprehensible to me that you would go, simply cease to exist in my sphere of reality.
Last night I sang songs in the whiskey bar to the woman/you in the chair who wasn’t there. When the singing was done, unbeknownst to you, I took you home, moved the chair without you in it to the closet. You helped me step up onto the empty space you have created, even arranged the noose around my throat that I might hang in the void you left behind.
Someone said God was a tall window. I climbed on top of my shoulders to peek out. It is raining there, damn it, it is raining. You are so perfectly imperfect in form, drifting like a child, moving deliberately toward the light with grim determination to overcome your flaws, devoured, predestined to stumble and fall.
All the wrong ladies came to watch me sing, ex-wives and daughters, coworkers and bosses. The one who owns my heart no longer hears me. Odd, the further you distance herself from me, the more difficult it is for me to accept. I am ripped and dazed, ripe for slaughter, wish, at some level, you would just drop the hammer.
Walking out into the crystal night I see the thumbnail moon we used to share. It is near her mountains, the western horizon. My heart is darker than the night as I turn away, refuse to look the moon in the face.
I cannot come to terms with my loss, the God-awful ebon heaven of my existence.
~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: VIII~
~Subterranean Junket~
~No Guts/No Glory~
Comments
2nd Mar 2011 (#)
Again and again you peep into my heart from that monastery and beckon to muse with you!
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2nd Mar 2011 (#)
Good to see you here! It's raining in California.
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2nd Mar 2011 (#)
I just came back from Saibaba Temple. It is Sivarathri Festival in India. Devotees chant the name of Siva worshipping the Siva Linga whole night. But I'm back to sleep.
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2nd Mar 2011 (#)
Chanting all night is a devotion. Closest I ever came to that is fighting with my wife or singing in whiskey bars in a rock band.
Sleep well, my friend!
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2nd Mar 2011 (#)
Devotion all the way and in many ways to enjoy this festival called life!
Thanks.
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3rd Mar 2011 (#)
....Time will take it. Thank you.
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3rd Mar 2011 (#)
Well written and damn what a powerful piece. Just love it.
Thank you for sharing.:)
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3rd Mar 2011 (#)
It is a good morning to wake up to friendly words.
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