Journey Through the Years: Rabbit

So here we are again, welcome back to the page. Yet another interpretation for your viewing pleasure.

Here is what we have to deal with today.

The task that waited for me when I decided to take on this concept of the “Chinese Zodiac”, was faceless, nameless and indescribably inciting. The animals I needed to get started were right there waiting for me, a simple google search away. As I penned a promise of content I had no idea what would be coming out of each animal. My curiosity was the driving force behind the project and it continues to feverishly examine the raw materials.

With each of the zodiac animals I dance with, so many unknowns cloud the way, a cause for both celebration and panic, I love the prospect of new information, but the lack of familiar territory doesn’t make for a smooth ride. The previously shared excerpts were of reasonable success, I steooed into the animals and played a role in my head thay i coukd share on the page, but this rabbit, this …. cunning fur ball was an enigma that tested my patience. It worked deeper into its burrow each times I inched close enough to tease a tale out of its hide.

An excavation of this experiment in the future grows more and more likely as I play with each candidate, with so much potential it would be a shame to leave it all with this one attempt. For now I would like to share the results of my recent dig to harness the rabbit energy.

Enjoy

 

 

Tomorrow seems to be a short breath away, the future Is a moment in the making, waiting for me on the furthest side of each passing second. I work for the finish, laying hour upon hour with a diligence reserved for kings, only time will crown these effort. No fanfare or flare needed when I finally win my lot.

Forever is soon to find the students of longevity, luck had no say in the sheen of this coat, forever is no fickle feat handed to well wishers and common folk, its a prize reserved for only the few who are privy to that south easterly wind carrying the guile of the rabbitkin. 

I am a companion to the evening light, I leisurely dress my years with an eye of keen composition, I am more than happy to dance with the devil in the details to win my admittance into heaven. We are wise to remain enamored with perfection, with a formula as old as time I see no need to defect.

I am waiting to watch the last light slip silently from sight before I can offer you my final farewell. As the course of nature goes, I follow suit, I have learned never to argue with the flakes of winter as autumn leaves, we are best to avoid all friction. The warren warrants safe stay from that inevitable chill, what better way to savour peace than a slumber away from the cold. Fire may fold away the frost, but I am unable to justify the risk of feeding my home to this insatiable beast, we are best to avoid the friction. I built a table inside my house in order to feed friends, never to fuel the end, the tombs of texts guarding my walls would be nothing but kindling for a fire conjured in vain. Look at how well I have worked the worlds mysteries into these shelves. I would quench any fire at lest it consumes my haven, I am play for the finish.

B.N.

 

 

 

 

Journey Through The Years: Tiger

Building on with another week of these interpretations. I bring to you….. the tiger.

Very little has yet to happen without a touch of encouragement on my part. Allow me to show you how. We have laughed together for too long, you  may have forgotten the gold in these stripes.

In spite of these walls we are likely to obtain heaven. I have heaped my paws with treasure, I can assure you that no measure of salt can dull the taste of victory. Fortune favours me, might and speed are but seeds to what my frame can make true, I can promise a piece of my luck if you are willing to take my side on this hunt. Follow my lead and lean your flanks into this venture.

I have seen enough of the bitter otherness that betrays so many in the heat of war. I believe an understanding has made itself known to me, by name and now by taste. I let no morsel of a moment avoid my tongue, what the hunt provides I shall always relish. The hunt was everything we needed it to be, it sharpened the fire that flickers in our coats to consume defeat. It offered a serving of fear so that we can steer clear of its effects. Locked in a race against tomorrow, how could a shy claw possibly pierce that curtain that dances between mediocrity and greatness. With too many names for the varying shades of cowardice, I pray by my yellow Lilly that they may never stain this hide of mine.

B.N.

 

 

 

Him for Her

When the sky is all raindrops and fire, I promise to stand with you.

There was a cruel miscarriage of justice written in ash and embers. The amber glow of spent vigour twisted the vines that once hugged the old tree. Once brilliant with chlorophyll and teaming with life, the luminous veins were the symbol of a hope that lived before the sky summoned it’s executioner. Now ashen and frail they lay strewn amongst the blades of grass, robbed of vitality, bearing no semblance to there original beauty.

From the speckled screen of privilege, I was kept safe at a distance, watching the ruckus unfold. The storm would rile itself up with that thunderous call and response that claimed the stormy nights. The room would shake as the air, taught by the rain and imposing clouds, was cut clean by the limbs of lights that stretched down. Outside my looking pane, out of reach of the reality of it all, nature was claiming its dominion over nature. My mother told me that lightning never strikes the same place twice. I’ve heard the words repeated time and time again, now looking on at the remains of the old tree, smitten by the sky, I prayed the heavens would spare that patch of earth another bout of fury.

I can’t remember when it was that I stopped running from those thunderous claps. I never took note of the way the fear molded itself into fascination. I out grew the cowering and faced into the storm from the safety of my window. A veil clear enough to never hide whats there to see, but veil enough to to ensure I didn’t taste the sting of the moment.

The elements wear their emotions on there sleeves, never resigning themselves to the judgment of onlookers. The thunder has been praised and vilified, none of this had altered its readiness to do its bidding. Staring at the remains of the old tree I see that beauty has hidden bite, nature has hidden might, the sharp sparks of heaven could strike as marvelous, or touch upon earth with ugly hues of destruction. There is a pantomime of ether that will wind to unfold in unexpected endings, in unexpected beginnings, unexpected majesty and mourning.

 

 

There was a cruel a miscarriage of justice written in ash and embers. The amber glow of unchecked rage, rattled off in storms that ate away at her. Such jagged diction, then taken as norm, was gifted thoughtlessly until they touched on the sinews of that lone soul brave enough to stand tall in the open, weathering the storms.

I hate that I wasn’t the only one watching as another cloudy day claimed her smile as the hope that coursed her veins was claimed by thunder. Her voice was lost in the wash of a horse wind begging her to “Remember her place.”

“What place?” I thought.

Sadly I knew.

There are only so many storm that privilege can shelter me away from. With out the rain on my back I’m numb to the reality of the stand, I forfeit forever my watching post.

My sister. I will be counted in the forest that will grow around you. I will be there to stand by you when the world is all raindrops and fire. I will stand tall, rooted deeply, footing firm and far reaching so every storm will tread tentatively before washing the ground around you. She fights for her right to stand tall in the bitter air. She stands tall to outlive the roar of the witless lumberjacks chains, intent on binding her strength. I have watched those branches tapped for way too long, limbs leaking with majesty, bleeding your sustenance dry. Your crooked bark outlines the story that was written in silence, the broken Armour that recounts the nights fighting against the storm.

When the sky is all raindrops and fire, I promise to stand with you.

Writing 101, Day 4: Seriously lost 

 

 

We slip through this river of time together, I remember your faces. It’s a crowded place sometimes, at times its deadly silent, I don’t know where this current takes us, but I’m certain our journey’s end. We are never in the same place twice, that is the nature of this river, it is the beauty of time.

We start off with nothing, we leave with nothing, somehow somewhere in the middle we feel as though we’ve earned things, gained things, made things ours. Sometimes we hold tightly to everything we have, sometimes we lose a thing or two to the white wash of passing moments. Maybe we lose them because we couldn’t hold them tight enough, we were not strong enough. Maybe we lose them because we held on too tight, or maybe we lose  them because there was nothing to there hold on to in the first place. 

Loss is inevitable, I have lost and left a lot behind, I am familiar with the sudden sense of lacking. I’m not saying I am happy about losing, I’m not saying it has gotten easier with time, but I look at the losses differently now, I see what it is left, what it was I truly  lost. 

I never thought I was losing you when I dreamed of change. I assumed, I assumed you would follow, that you would finally see the visions I painted into our summers. I just assumed you’d always be that spontaneous voice on the other end of the phone, coaxing me out for another day under the sun, another day to settle our tumultuous spirits, away from where the world teased us into tightly clenched pockets of confusion. I miss always knowing your home was mine. I look back and call for you at times, I try to pretend you’ll come, but you only wave and smile at me, I guess that’s enough for now. 

I never thought I would lose you, my second in command, my partner on my every conquest. We took to life with the winds of youth at our wings, with the endless string of chances we thought we had ready at hand. They doubted us then, they are doubting us now, but still we cut our way against there negativity. It’s a shame that we seem to doubt each other now, just as much as they did us.

 I never thought I’d lose the stage that claimed our memories. Behind our closed doors we dreamed of building our legacies. I realised that I had to swim to build that dream, treading water has lost its allure. 

I remember our wildest nights. When the sun forfeited its flight, we did what they all did, we marched amongst the wild and free. I hated when the guise had worn thin, I could see the binds. I was taken by fear when I saw the truth, what I thought to be my freedom had held me captive. 

You were the faces of my memories, I forever hold you close. It is not because of lessened love that I appear to remain hidden. It isn’t you that I am leaving behind. I know that you have seen them, those troubling sparks inside me that have always burned brightly and coloured our conversations with something memorable. I want those flashes to be a beacon in the night. I will disappear into black, but I promise you’re not forgotten. Watch for the beacon and you will find me. I hope you have the patience to wait.

Sunrise

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My early call to rise rings out at the same time ever morning, 5 am. Every morning, at 5 am, I rock myself out of a shallow sleep, gather the scattered pieces of my focus and brace myself, ready to face the budding day at its root. I loathed dawn for so long, returning to it only through necessity.

I recently found hidden value and beauty in those early hours. It wasn’t the way in which the horizon bled as the sun stalked the weakening night sky. It wasn’t the tranquil air, alive with a heady mix of possibility and bird song , it was something different. It was the way it mediated my conflicting thoughts and gave my hope a backbone, the way it allowed my compass to settle to a true north, it allowed me to breath in the realisation that, like that rising sun, coming from everywhere, to embrace everything, I have to go far from comfort to pierce the blackness.

My eyes are drawn to the morning sun, with envy and curiosity. When 5 am arrives, I rise to chase a dream.

 

SUNRISE

As your golden arcs dissolve the night, I wonder where you’ve been.

you trace the distance silhouettes with ribbons of foreign fire.

Fermenting the swollen shadows by imposing your rosy sheen,

as your golden arcs dissolve the night, I wonder where you’ve been.

I’ve been tested by dawns return, the burn of an auburn, keen

to unfold the day, invoke a steam to power our souls desire.

With your golden arcs dissolving night, I wonder where you’ve been,

you trace the distance silhouettes with ribbons of foreign fire.

–  Triolet

(c) Saili Katebe