Memories Live Here

Memories Live Here

Memories Live Here

Her favourite table sat under a three bay window in her bedroom

in summer she opened the windows early

 usually 6.30, enjoying her morning coffee

 to the accompaniment of birds and insects

 the not so distant highway muffled by a strand of thick untidy bush...

With the curtains pulled open

the morning sun filters onto the table

 through an overhanging native tree

 splashing in patchy patterns

 that blended with the jumble of colour on the table’s top

 Many years ago she had decoupaged the top

with photos of her family mixed up with other pictures

 – trees, crystals, flowers, shaman,  fish, frogs, and other earthy elements...

The table had become a good conversation starter

 all who sat at it felt drawn into the story the pictures told

 a tapestry that illustrated  her beliefs

 the things she felt passionate about,

an elucidation that spotlighted through her outer shell

and bared her soul for all to see...

As such the table was sometimes covered

for there were times...certain people... she didn’t share with

 but not often...

some items permanently reside on the top...

 a ceramic hand her daughter made her

that always holds a candle

 yellow at the moment

layers of coloured wax dribble down over the hand

so much over the years that the hand has disappeared

 She burns the candle every night

so family and friends see it flickering in the window

and know that she is home...

Many times she has had it burning through the day

 her silent prayer to victims of brutality

or the wrath of nature

 September 11 saw it burn for 11 days

 Bali 8 days,

the tsunami of Christmas 2004-5

 she had the candle burning for a week ...

Other things reside there

 usually an assortment of pens, books and paperwork

 her glasses, ashtray and more recently a mobile phone

 The predictable cup of coffee is always there

in various states of warmth

 along with her tobacco pouch...

 As each morning progresses

 the sun makes its way in a curving arch up the windows

until the crystals catch it

 sprinkling rainbow reflections onto the table

 and into the room...

Her cat, a fat black egocentric snob

likes the cool hard surface of the tabletop

 and she has an on-going struggle with him

 over his right to lay there...

 She moves him several times a day

only to turn around and find him there

 snoozing contentedly

She moves him repeatedly until finally he gives in

 going to sleep somewhere else

 usually the wooden chest in the front room...

Friends have laughed and cried at the table...

 Raged tirades at the injustices of the world

 whispered secrets and shared life...

 It has endured four moves and many different rooms

 but always tells the same story-

welcome to those who sit with peace in their soul

 good intentions in their heart

and an open unprejudiced mind...

sharonlee

Earthy Vibrations….

Earthy Vibrations….
….
I don’t know why I decided to walk across the Nullarbor Plain;
it was the late seventies, I was 17 years old
and it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time;
I had spent the seventies traveling with my parents
and had circumnavigated Australia a number of times,
the bush was no stranger to me,
so traveling on to major capital cities such as Adelaide or Melbourne
had felt like the scarier option.
I did not know much about cities or city life then
and although the Nullarbor route also led to a city
it was smaller and more colonial;
at least back then it was more colonial,
these days it’s a bustling city, port and international gateway.
Spreading along the beautiful west coast
Perth is the capital of Western Australia,
one of our more remote and vaster states.
There was no real reason for heading to Perth
other than the way offered a quieter path
and it was not until I had spent a few days
and nights walking and camping
that I began to notice subtle changes were taking place,
mostly within myself.
….
I noticed that my soul seemed calmer and quieter,
that the bottled-up tension and hostilities
were dissipating with each step;
my mind was less chaotic and more observant.
My surroundings slowly changed
with each unwavering footfall that echoed on the road
and I began to see more clearly; almost too clearly.
I thought I could see and feel a faint humming luminance
vibrating around each tree and plant,
often merging and overlapping
to form new colors and vibrations.
I had experienced something like this once before
when camped on the edge of a desert;
the undulating sand-ripples caused by an ever-present wind
hypnotized and bewitched me…
I fancied I heard the heartbeat of the very earth itself,
the red desert sand seemed to glow like fire.
*
I walked through the long silent days and into each night
medicated by nature’s soft soothing melody;
birds followed my path dipping and darting from tree to tree
swooping high into the sky in the open patches that broke up the bush.
When I stepped over their invisible border they would turn back,
skimming through branches with practiced ease
and other birds would take up the role
of guide or guardian.….
….
At night the sky was silky and soft,
as dark and shiny as ebony and brilliantly lit;
a warm breeze ruffled the trees
and created currents of dust that eddied around tree trunks
and swirled through the bare patches.
I wasn’t scared; I didn’t think there was anything to be frightened of,
so I slept soundly under the cover of night
and woke each morning to a dazzling new dawn.
….
I discovered a lot about my blossoming young self on that long walk;
I learnt that I actually didn’t mind my own company;
that silence didn’t have to be filled,
rather it should be respected and fostered and listened to;
I learnt that trees have a life energy of their own
and that the earth resonates with hushed vibrations.
I felt at home.
More at home in a sleeping bag on the dirt
then I ever felt, in the years that followed
when I shared a city with a million others.
….
When I knew that I was close to the sea
I veered off the road,
picking my way through stubby bush and stunted trees.
I heard and smelt and felt the ocean
long before I reached the rocky cliff that dropped into the broiling waves.
With surprising nerve, for I do have a slight fear of heights,
I approached the edge of the cliff;
far below powerful waves thundered onto large smooth boulders,
spraying up and raining back down with a regular surging backwash.
The earth shivered with delight.
That night the moon seemed to be ringed with a soft saffron nimbus
of incandescent light that skimmed across the ocean like a beacon.
It was a bright night;
good for traveling,
but I felt captivated and did not want to leave.
The leaves murmured a soft lullaby,
accompanied by the deeper rumble of the rhythmic waves
as they crashed onto the rocks far below,
I closed my eyes and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep
with the moon as my nightlight and the stars my guardians.
sharonlee©08

Answering the Echoes of My Inner Voice

Answering the Echoes of My Inner Voice

My troubled thoughts seem clearer tonight; though still plagued in a way by my own thoughts and feelings … I now feel an inner strength building in me…. Not so much troubled anymore… curious, would be more apt… curious about my future… intrigued as to whether it will unfold as I hope… interested in my sudden shift from futility to a wary acceptance of whatever may come my way…. Still a little restless… unsettled… but not troubled…. I’ve survived all these years, haven’t I…. one would think I’ve picked up few truisms along the way…

… and so what if the mask is crumbling…. To hell with wearing it for one more moment… to hell with hiding… here I am world… take me as you find me ‘cos I’m my own woman… and I have a life to live

adventure to breath… love and laughter and honesty to be shared…

And I’m not too old to take a chance… damn it, I’m never going to be too old to take a chance….

I want to be taking chances now and when I’m 60… 70 …. 80… 100

or until my lungs draw their last breath and my breasts rise and fall for the last time …

I don’t care if I’m not poised, self-assured, self-confident… don’t give damn if I’m battered and bruised from youthful indulgences and addictions… I still have NO illusions about this carcass that

houses the soul… but the hidden me… the me not seen from the outside… that me is more graceful and caring and compassionate than at any stage in the past…. And knowledgeable in ways

a younger woman would not… could not understand….

I have been loved… adored- bless his sweet patient country soul…. though much of the time

he didn’t understand me… couldn’t fathom the depth of my mind…was puzzled by the meanderings

of my thoughts and emotions… but he always loved me…. Always…. Until the angels, if such beings exist, came and took him away…

I’m at ease with this me I am now…. Wise enough to consider youthful misadventures as ‘learning’ experiences… after all I’m not on drugs, I don’t drink alcohol…well one or two wines a year  …I haven’t been arrested in 30 years….and my conscience isn’t heavy with the knowledge of breaking too many hearts…. So I must have learnt something from those wild and hedonistic days….

So I don’t have that little cottage I’ve always dreamed of…and I haven’t travelled overseas…. but there’s time yet for both to happen…I’m not the published writer I envisioned as an idealistic young woman who though she could change the world with her words… or at least challenge global masses to move beyond their scripted lives…. But…. I do still write 6 out of 7 days and do have a circle of writer friends to socialise with… what does it matter if we’ve never met… still the possibility of being published exists and therefore so does that dream….

…the funny thing is… if only Destiny Fate and Karma stopped trying to outdo each other

(thereby cancelling out each other’s actions) Well… perhaps they’d realise that if I became published

I might have a shot at buying  my little cottage and travelling overseas as well…

…but I have a more immediate goal to concern myself with

…that of surviving a new and unexpected change....

I recently  found myself out of work

and since I live where I work, at the end of the month I will be relocating

to another area… will look for work… and place to live…. And plan my future;

I’ll tell you one thing though… if Destiny, Fate and Karma don’t get there shite together soon

I’m taking them for a long jump off a short pier;

Sharonlee©

11 Feb. 11

Apathy of the Masses

Apathy of the Masses

Indifference

walks the streets-

seedy sullen….a  listless throng…

apathy reigns

vacuous eyes

that say nothing-

everything…

don’t look at me!

…. wont someone

anyone

please …please…notice me…

a few…. just a few rare few

shades of blissful hues

amid the wretched

multitude…

in dismal corners

the weary and desolate hide their pain

and behind closed eyes

…. they dream…

…they dream….

the same as you or I

and in their way they do as we do

get through each day and somehow

 just survive…

sharonlee©

8 Feb., 11

Surreal Reality

Surreal Reality

Sitting

on the back steps

morning coffee

strong and sweet…

the country air

soft and scented…

native birds oblivious

to my passage thru time…

my thoughts wander and wonder

it feels so surreal

my reality…

chaos reigns, somewhere

and children cry…

a mother, somewhere

refuses to face the  day

without her child…

a father, somewhere

gives up… takes out a gun

…and gives up …

While I sit in morning silence

country air soft and scented

on my face…

sharonlee©

8/2/2011 1:20 PM

Stories in My Keeping

Stories in My Keeping

The night sits softly in my eyes tonight

…I’m glad the sun has set at last

if only my wayward thoughts were sleeping

… so many stories in my keeping…

I met him so many years ago

…I was a younger me…

who I no longer know

he was sitting by the railway line

all he owned tied up with twine…

on his lap a book of Dylan

opened at a certain page

he looked at me with such wisdom

that spoke volumes of his age…

we talked the afternoon away

just this gentle man and I

till the sun began slowly setting

in a distant western sky..

then he recited in deep warm tones

words that follow where ‘ere I roam-

“They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.”

then he looked at me spoke

in a voice akin a song…

I know the time is coming soon

in truth I am ready for that day

when I won’t wake from my final sleeping

go now… my stories are in your keeping…

sharonlee©

8/2/2011