If I would say anything, it would be this. That you are not yourself to me. You are a word which would disintegrate if I ever held it in my hand. You are an inarticulate wish I have sent into the distance between shorelines and responses, and I'm sorry for it, because I ought to see you instead of dreaming you.
Besides, if you wanted to take my hand, lay the word against my heart line, head line, I would swallow back all the words I know and run away without an answer. But only because I am myself, nothing like a wish or an old dream. I am debris; I am the grit in the wind. You would not want to take my hand. You would not track me down to where ever I had hidden.
Take my words instead; they are all the beautiful things unnoticed within forest shadow and the old grey wind. But they are not me. I am silence, reaching and recoiling. I am the thing which dreams. And I don't mind so much, at least sometimes, because without a dreamer there would be no dreams.
And you.
The words of you. About as real as the words of me. I wonder what you'd do, should I draw myself out of the ocean with something white and simple to lay in your hand.
I wonder what you dream.
soundtrack
Your writing is as haunting as is your photography.
ReplyDeleteReading your story, I couldn’t help but to think about two women I knew. Both relationships make for a very sad story.
When you say, “I wonder what you dream,” I would venture to say that he probably still dreams about you because he’s missing you. If this peace has any bearing upon your own life, than perhaps don’t run but talk things through. “Good” relationships that break are never over nor are resolved like the stormy ones are. That I have learned the hard way.
Thank you :-) The person for whom this was written has never met the person who wrote it.
ReplyDeleteSorry about the typos. I'm too tired. I am working entire weekend. Yea,I know. People will laugh at me, not you...
ReplyDeleteTypos? I loved the misspelling of piece, I thought it was a beautiful accident :-) And I would never laugh at you, I am so delighted to have your comments here.
DeleteThis post is so poignant.
ReplyDeleteI can only say that when there are shores between people, words can be a gift; a sharing of hearts. And, when people are close enough to touch hands, silence can be a gift, too.
Who would not treasure something white and simple to hold onto?
Thank you Susan. I appreciate it so much.
DeleteYou're writing is so beautiful Sarah. I feel like I've experienced something very similar to this, but could have never put it into words the way you have.
ReplyDeleteThank you Dawn, you are such a kind friend.
DeleteI think you are more you than you know; I think the other is more them than they know. We all are. And then we speak to one another with our words, and we discover ourselves.
ReplyDeleteIt is so interesting to see how different people interpret this piece of writing. :-)
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