all the summer long the
anniversary of the terror
like a toxin in the marrow gave
the thoughts a quiver
for the drawing
of an arrow
Paris is incredible. Incroyable. Very possibly the most treasured city in the world, though I hate to use superlatives. Have you been there? You will understand the origin of the café and people will talk back to you, tell you how they really feel, argue with you, almost fight with you before you all get down to the basic human show of kindness, and share some bread crusts and cheese, water and wine, coffee and conversation. And embrace one another, locating a point of arrival – by point of departure. You gotta roll up sleeves and put forth the knuckles of convictions first, show them where you stand. Only then can you find common ground somewhere between, which often is the character behind the words and philosophies. Willingness to defend your cause and country. Loyalty. Spiritedness. Cohesion.Esprit de corps. This is the French term for the universal experience of morale. Uniting behind a common cause. And in these times of terrorism (under attack today in Nice) we need the glue only France can manufacture. Let our hearts go out to the lives lost and the lives living with the loss. We all can feel the loss and let those who we have lost inspire us to counter by coming together somehow to heal these differences because we all can agree, on ALL sides, terror and Terrorism suck.
Bedtime came early. The lights, i extinguished. In favor of my brief candle. Once lit, she told me a flickering tale of terror. The milk waters enlarged around my pupils, as I listened to the madness, in silent breakbeats on the walls. Each shadow spoke twice the flickering volume of light, all around. A sweet scent of chamomile came out of liquid wax, and froze my bones. Like spider venom. All so subtle. I could have screamed! Were I not so seduced, lying in bed in my silks and cotton. Watching murderous tales of blood lust from dark places. Apparitions along the walls. Then the flickering light drew together, so strange I can hardly describe! As the wax just congealed, in this unnatural way. While burning was the wick? Then I became of a blur, all my self. As her tale spun me around and my feather down, down…into a sleep so deep… I would never be found. Just a solitary candle signals smoke, in an empty small room, at blue dawn.