Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Hiraeth Arooooo... Moons shown as my shadow slunk below dark clouds slipped into a crack. Arooooo... I fled to cover ears and heart Arooooo... echoes from afar sought to disrupt my thoughts. Unlocked, they spilled spent moss, old bones, landed like a feather upon uncaring stone. Alone, I counted backwards from two million memories of what I'd done, for what I must atone: that time I ignored your smile, confusing love with lust, that time I bruised your equanimity, abused your sanity, rejected your sanguine touch. Such was my stupidity, my fluidity congealing like spent blood. Now I long to take back those moments. Now I see you silhouetted by a moon. steadfast as a rock, howling for me to mend my ways, wend my way. Come back... Aroooo... Come back. © Kåre Enga [14.novembre.2016] |