Rain, You've found me alone

You remind me of sweeter times, of twenty years waiting, staring down the dirt road.

Of summer rains and winter snows,

of the first signs of spring, the last gasp of autumns warm breath.

You remind me of everywhere we've ever been,

everywhere I've ever felt at home,

of the clink of glasses, the soft murmur of familiarity.

I walked to your house one winter evening, just to sit by your side. 

The sun was setting, it's cold arms gripping the colours of the sky,

And I could feel your breath running through the trees.

You made us a map to find our way around your home.

And I braved ice and wind, silence and solitude

To find my way back to you.

That night we stood, facing eachother 

hands held, foreheads touching, the breath from our mouths rising

intertwined to become the mist that would join the fog,

the fog which would find it's place amongst the clouds,

becoming the snow that would fall upon our rooftops as we sleep.

The wind sang to us with heavenly intonation through the trees.

Breaking each part of our hearts with ghostly progression

Until the tear-like rains of fragility flowed into mirth.

Birthing with it the fragrance of new life, hope confirmed.

You are my best years, my long summer eves, my journeys, my home.

The one I'll walk with each day until the fading light envelops all.

And the quiet knowledge that our hearts were meant to be

And when I'm away chasing the life I know I'll find once more in you, you'll wait.

Patiently, because you know I'll always return.

And when I do, timid and humbled, you will take me into your arms and promise to never untwine your heart from mine.

You'll take my battle wounds, and kiss them, like you always would,

and though they might not all heal straight away, I'll know you'll be there, teaching me to walk once more, through the rocky and the narrow.

And when I knock, once more at your door, you'll embrace me, as if you knew exactly when I'd be back.

You will cover my back and mend my heart, laugh at all my stories and cry at my defeats.

And in the evening, when the day is exhausted and my soul is healing,

You'll call everyone I've ever loved and who has loved me,

and in our rawness, we will find the soul and the essence of communion.

Celebrating our life and the simplicity of reunion,

Of heavenly moments we shared, the true friends we find along the rocky path, a glimpse of something larger than us.

A song whose beauty pierces through the tough exteriors to our hearts.

You will hold my hand through it all, and whisper reassurances to my heart.

And you will know, as if you've always known,

That I am, and will eternally be

Yours.

Our Brother

'I can never sleep when I go back home', he said, 'The dishwasher sound like someone is always walking up the stairs. Thud, thud, thud. A perpetual thud, thudding. It drives me mad'.

I always thought he was a light sleeper. He could hear our sister writing, her felt-tip pen scratching on paper from the other end of the house.
He loved to watch her write. He would sit for hours in the same room as her, pretending to read, but all the time silently staring, transfixed, at her.

I think he was so amazed to watch someone become so absorbed by their fantasy world yet still function intelligently in the world of here and now.
Sometimes it was if he saw the worlds she wrote about, dancing about her head, and that's why he was always so entranced by watching her write.
After he left my sister said it felt odd to write now.

'Something's been lost, and I just can't pick it', her grey eyes glossing over like they did when she would search her mind for something important, 'they just don't have the life they used to have. Like something in my mind has lost some vital aspect.'
I wondered if I should tell her about our brother. I saw the brokenness in her gaze and thought better of it.

When we go back home now we always eat dinner in front of the t.v. Even if nothing is on, and it's on mute. even if the television is off. I think my mother just couldn't bear to see the empty seat that would have usually seated my brother.

He used to carry my books home from school. He told me once that they helped him get muscles and girls.
That summertime I was amazed to see his girlfriend and him at the creek on afternoon. No one had told me about the side effects of meeting the girl of your dreams, I just thought my books had been some mighty hard work.
He told that girl he would one day marry her, and after searing every part of the earth for her, kept his word. As he lent in to kiss her he whispered 'Told you I would.'

I missed the birth of their first child, following my brother's footsteps though India, seeking the adventure that had so easily found him. I arrived to find their child hadn't missed my name, the crinkle eyed smile was duplicated, and I finally felt at home.

December Valentine

I'll be the judge and I'll be the jury,

I'll cause you to stumble,

Said cunning old Fury.

I'll keep what I've stolen,

I'll take what is mine.

I'll capture your heart,

Oh, my sweet valentine.

(Loosely and indirectly based on Lewis Caroll's poem 'The Mouse's Tale' from Alice In Wonderland. Dedicated also loosely and indirectly to Temika Jayne Murray, even if she never reads it. )