wild melody

i told You to come after me. i challenged you, last year; to prove you loved me. remember God? even though i say i believe you died on a cross to save me from myself. from striving for morality but always too broken, from the failures & mistakes & chains of my humanity, the sharp taste of death being an end. but i asked, if you really want me? well that feels like a fairytale. it seems distant and strange. so even though i have the sacrifice of your life. i demanded more. because i didn't i didn't believe you would respond i thought you would say: "you're ungrateful look what i have already done? why can't you accept it just open your eyes i already proved my love you are selfish, blind, lazy too ignorant or too willful too scared? to receive it. why would i waste any more on you? there's a limit. you are too much." i'm still holding my breath for the harshness. after all the tiny love letters, all the individual alphabe...

"so, where is she?" the voice drew her out of her head, up and out of memories tinged sepia. ones with the dust of years around the edges, locked for so long in a box she thought had been destroyed. she couldn't remember where the conversation had been when she left it. "what girl?" "the one who stood up for justice. the one who pushed back, who said how she was being treated was wrong. the one who would have called it injustice if she saw it happening to anybody else. where is she?" "15" the answer came immediately. startled, she stopped to think for a moment and realized this was true. it's a funny thing, memories. awaken one and a whole series comes to life. it turns out she was good at hiding things from herself. after six-ish weeks of not really knowing, of being blurry there was clarity too surprising to be painful. at first. "she's 15, locked in a closet somewhere. duct tape over her mouth. because how else wou...

rained all day. drizzling damp or fierce drenching, water fell from the sky like a proper Irish thursday. I made soda bread, as if the rubbing & kneading of the dough could smooth out my tightness. but knots of the soul are not so easily released.  should have, could have, why-didn't-I's, & only-if-I-had's dance around the edge of my consciousness. I can't let them in. I'm already as tense as a rubber band stretched much too tight. snappish & harsh to the unfortunate innocents who bump into me. it's not that i'm angry. don't mean to lash out but this knotted-ness from deep down spills forth. tense heart leads to tense tone, tense body & a person miserable. can't say why exactly. don't really want to know why or i would've sorted it out already.  g r a c e. allows me to slam the door on regrets & if-onlys. says its never too late to start fresh. even if there's 45 minutes left in a day. maybe that can't be redeemed,...