Snow slowly falls, and I gaze out the window seeing your reflection etched into the glass reaching out to touch your face there in the frozen pane I am struck by the cold radiating through my fingers and the physical pain pulls me back Back to the room; the place once a source of happiness hosting now only emptiness and shadows
It is times like these when I am alone and Surrounded by the memories that you come achingly back to me Your laugh, your voice, the touch of your fingers on my lips all the memories come crashing back shattering my brain until I can no longer move Immobile, I sit frozen in time, frozen in space hoping beyond hope that you will somehow appear; released from your resting space in the sky And melt my chains of loneliness away
Oh what I would give to have you back just for one day To tell you all those things I couldn't for so many years the things that I kept hidden inside waiting for the right day Who knew that the right day would never ever come? Who knew that you would be taken away from me so soon?
A canvass half painted- you were a work of art in motion You inspired me to be my best; you knocked me down a peg When I became too full of myself You were my friend, my confidante, my everything If you were here today, I would tell you this: You made a huge difference in my life And I loved you with all of my heart I thought we would be together forever Destiny showed her hand and it was time for you to depart Suddenly your spark was put out and you were gone before I could reach your side
I tear my gaze from the window and the falling snow My frozen state of immobility has melted The fire-hot tears that fall silently from my eyes cracking the ice in my heart I feel again....but it is pain Will it ever go away...........
Continuing on in the theme of destiny and people who make a difference in our lives.... I have to say that I have truly met the most interesting people during the course of my life. I always go further, dig deeper, ask the probing question beyond, "Hi, how are you. Let's do lunch some time..." I ALWAYS want to know more about YOU. If we truly connect, then you will find that I focus completely on what you have to say, taking it all in like the smoothest of brandies, inserting the occasional question that takes you deeper than you have ever gone outside of your own consciousness.
I wrote the piece below about my friend Timothy who resides in the UK. It deals with internal demons and ... well you will figure it out for yourselves. Tim has an amazing life story, one that deals with survival of the toughest of circumstances and triumph over adversity. A book about his life would surely make the best-seller's list. I feel privileged that he has openly shared so much of his life with me. Following my piece is Tim's own writing about himself.
Timothy
A great heart in a large body So focused on the genteel life Chocolate trifle and fois gras with some Italian Cava Poured liberally Movies from the ‘40s and your Bogie-esqe hat All that’s missing is that Cuban stogie You so quickly had your eye upon
In your free time you pen lyrics full of schisms of all sorts Your dream is to be recorded and your music fill the charts You live the life of a haberdasher, yet socialism fills your veins A quite abrupt dichotomy that’s lodged within your brain
Somehow you have become fixated upon my American life You know my full story: mother, writer, dreamer, wife Yet you see some spark within me that you need to ignite your days Perhaps you want me to be your muse, in my rose-colored ways
Your life story would read like a best-selling novel Almost too unbelievable to believe Poverty, abandonment, self-educated genious, Hippy mother, S&M, sex, drugs and rock & roll
Yet despite, the most bizarre of upbringings You rose above it all Became successful and a gentleman You heard the call To be all that was in your nature To use your brilliance for the good But beware the devil’s advocate That seeks to pull you towards Absolut
The liquor calls your name Like a honey-tongued young thing Shushing and seducing you She wants that special ring- the one that will tie you to her forever Then she will call the shots As you spiral down within yourself Your memory totally lost
Don’t give in to her- please save yourself now “Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace…”
Serenity is the answer Don’t place your hope in me
Copyright Michelle Beckham-Corbin 2009
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Absolut-ly Necessary
"In a black and white photo nostalgically nasty I was celebrating sealing the deal Feeling like a million dollars with inflation isn't that much to feel Streamlining thoughts in Darwinian doubles 'til I couldn't think of anything else Making a memory out of pieces of pictures, dreading what I did to myself I'll be so happy when I show you I can stop I'm an escapist, I'm makeshift, I've made this mess But I can break it, I'll make myself convalesce You see I'm not so empty I'd say the glass is full You are what I want to tempt me And I don't want my senses dull"
Back to destiny. Interesting how this topic keeps re-surfacing.In fact, I had another long discussion with an old friend about this very thing earlier tonight, but I digress………..
Chain of events- how many times do we make a decision about something spurred on by a random occurrence?What if that occurrence wasn’t random?I believe that everything happens for a reason and that clues that can guide our lives are scattered about if we only have the intuitive eye with which to see.
An example:Several months ago, out of nowhere, my daughter developed a barking cough which seemed to get worse during certain times of the day.First diagnosis was left-over bronchial infection.Since the symptoms occur when she is active, i.e. gym class, Lacrosse, Volley ball practice (places where I am not around), I didn’t hear the cough after the initial few weeks.Out of range, out of mind.So after playing phone tag with the doctor for a week, I totally forgot about the situation.So yesterday morning, I entered her room to wake her up and she didn’t respond.I called her name loudly several times and she just didn’t move (which is totally unusual as she is a light sleeper).In a millisecond of panic, I thought, OMG, she’s dead!But then she moved and got out of bed.I brushed it off as nothing and promptly forgot the whole scene.That was random clue number 1.
Later, during my pre-work coffee, I glanced down and saw a tiny section at the bottom of the front Metro Section of the Cincinnati Enquirer.It was a picture of a lovely woman that I had met last fall and had several subsequent phone conversations with.The article reported her untimely death the day before due to an asthma attack.Random Clue number 2 was too strong to be random.
Most people don’t know that I am highly intuitive (dare I say, “psychic”?).I phoned the Allergy/Asthma doctor and described what had been going on with my daughter and they immediately diagnosed her with possible exercise-induced asthma brought on by allergies and put her on three inhaler medications to test this theory.
Would something unfortunate have happened that night when she went to a rigorous Lacrosse Practice?I’ll never know, but I am glad that we have taken uncertainty out of the equation.
Finally some creative writing in the form of a story-this one based on an actual conversation:
Destiny/Religion Discussion- he started it.LOL
Walking along the leaf strewn pathway in silence, he suddenly turned to her and said in an almost breathless voice which belied the quiet gait in which they had been traveling, “There’s one question at the heart of existence. Do we walk the road or does the road walk us?”
Smiling, she stopped and tilted her head upwards towards the sun, feeling its warmth encompass her face.“Back to destiny I see.”She was referring to the recent conversation that had escalated into a heated debate three weeks before.They had both seen the movie Slumdog Millionaire prior to its 8 Academy Award honors, and the movie’s under riding theme of destiny, coupled with his search for meaning in his own life had brought them to the discussion.
“The answer is that WE walk the road,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because we are in control. We have free will that enables us to make choices. We can jump off the highway at any time.”
“Can we really?”He kicked at a small grey rock that lay in the center of the path.It went airborne and skipped twice before landing in the long grass to the right of the walkway.
She turned to him and said, “I believe so.I guess it depends on whether you feel that you are in control of your life or not.”
“So, smart one, does control of the means equate to control of the end?”He smiled slyly, hoping to trap her into a conundrum.
“Yes, of course,” she answered back quickly and raced ahead of him chasing the shadows that were falling from the trees lining the path.
“Strange view for a Christian to have!” he panted as he caught up to her, his long legs falling back into step with her shorter ones.She ignored him, knowing exactly where he was going to take this argument.
He continued on with a different tactic:“Sooo, is the future static or dynamic?”She looked up into his green eyes; eyes that once upon a time could look down into the depths of her soul and she froze for a moment.Memories came flooding back and emotions began to swirl.She took a deep breath and banished them back down into the deepness of the past: a place that was no longer talked about.
“Dynamic of course!” she said, smiling sweetly, hoping the rip in the fabric of her stoicism didn’t show.
“Of course?” he replied. “What do you mean, of course?”
She replied, “Yes, how could it be static? Static means unchanging.
He replied, “Yes it does.Maybe the future is as concrete as the past.”
