Monthly Archives: December 2010

SIGN OF THE TIME

She took a drive along the river; windows open, breeze blowing her hair; down that long winding road she once loved so well. Riverfront mansions guarded, by imposing iron gates, with large white pillar columns reminiscent of long ago days. Giant old oaks trimmed with grey-green moss, seduce her imagination as if fragments of ghosts once lost. Circular driveways lined with shiny cars, announced the celebrations commencing inside.

She slowed when the road divided, wrapping round more giant trees, then an immediate left she carefully turned, making her way into the old, dark cemetery. Graves like none other she’d ever seen, imminent death revered in this place. Poinsettias and wreaths adorned the tombs, for those passed on, still remembered and loved.

Walking alone in silence, ignoring the sudden rain, ever aware that her presence did not go unnoticed, but fearing not, for it was peace that she felt. She thought of those she’d loved and lost, of spirits set free and their certain knowing; of holidays past that she’d taken for granted; of all she should be thankful for, too tired to ignore that ever present ache.

Home is where the heart is, if that’s true her heart is misplaced; for she desperately longs to bridge the distance and make up for years seemingly lost; to live the rest of her given days, sharing life with those she most loves.

She heard the wings beating rapid, repelling the now pouring rain, she stood looking up rain pelting her face, mixed with the warmth of her tears. She’d wished for a sign, an answer to her plight, as the Hawk unseen had been watching her, made his presence known in sudden flight; she closed her eyes as he vanished from sight and felt her heart being spirited away…

©2010 by Jill Terry

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WHITE CHRISTMAS DREAMS

It was Christmas Eve morning and all within the castle still peacefully slumbered; but for that one soul; wandering, but no longer lost, or alone. She stood by the French doors, wrapped in her robe of paisley silk, unconsciously rubbing her finger along the strand of garnet beads that adorned her neck forevermore; her gaze taking her past the veranda, to the magical forest beyond, coming to life before her eyes.

Daylight was breaking and the light shown pale pink; illuminating the barren branches and blanketing the snow. The air was frigid on the other side of the doors, but inside she was comfortable, safe and warm; her senses filled with the spicy, rich earthiness that permeated throughout every room; inspiring her to soar, free from the bonds of everyday life, grasping that which dwelled within the depths of her soul.

She’d never known such happiness, never felt so at peace, never found a place in this world where she so effortlessly slipped and naturally fit, as she did within those castle walls; walls that seemed to whisper her name, filled with treasures she found most pleasing, a feast for her eyes to behold; expectantly extracting her very essence and graciously welcoming her home.

©2010 by Jill Terry


MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Faced with reality
Of her own ugly truth
She found herself slipping
In that self-loathing mode

Mortified at succumbing
To the falsity of illusion
With nothing left pleasing
For the eye to behold

The world was still cruel
Fate dealt a wicked hand
And if he so loved her
She could not understand

She withdrew in dark silence
To her comforting place
Hidden among shadows
That masked her actuality

Afflicting damnation
For believing herself worthy
To be cast among them
Those borne of pure beauty

Worshipped and wanted
Perhaps once upon a time
No longer found suitable
For adorning castle walls

Ticking clock echoes
Reminding everything must stop
Yet cycles continue infinite
Her mark already dissolved

©2010 by Jill Terry


CATHARSIS

She had a knack for burying things; in the secret recess of her mind. She didn’t wait for the wounds to fester, didn’t want to see the scab that was sure to leave an ugly scar, even though she knew it would eventually fade with time. She didn’t want to feel the itch as it slowly began to heal, forcing her to acknowledge each time she scratched. She didn’t want to be reminded at all, so she buried them deep, where she thought no one could ever find them. Hiding them she believed, from even herself.

Then along her path came a healer, having already glimpsed into her soul; for once they had stood toe-to-toe, in that long narrow hall leading to nowhere. He had a way of touching her, opening every wound, introducing her to catharsis, a word she soon came to loathe. Not because the outcome was undesirable in any way, but because the pain, which at times could be excruciating, she once again was forced to face; in reaching that point of purification, through unfettered emotional release. With the one who knows, maybe always knew and willingly absorbed as much pain as he could, just so she no longer suffered alone.

©2010 by Jill Terry


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