Kintsugi

         Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! Take me from the tide line in my gossamer djellaba of kelp and coral, glinting with stars of mica and bejewelled with oyster shells. Take this longing from my tongue that leaves me parched as salt. You are my longing; my first hello; my last goodbye. Hush now, don't explain why it is wrong. I am a new lamb to your shepherding love and I crave your tenderness. You raise me up to more than I can be, washed by the foam of the surf; a champagne of laughter through tears.That is what I said. And then he left. And I am an incomplete shell, an alphabet of longing laying silent on the shore under the scrutiny of mewling seagulls.

       Can you love a broken thing; a three legged dog; a foxed mirror; a cracked earthen wear jar  (dress it in gold: Kintsugi), or must I be thrown back to the sea? 

       No woman no cry, I console myself. There is a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in. And though we all have different journeys all rivers eventually lead to the sea. There lies a world of wonder. There you can lie, coddled beneath the waves' reticulated surface where love is an imperfect longing however effusive your desire. Wait. Be watchful. Take comfort in the sisterhood of scales and you will find a love equal to your own. Then you will be raised up to a world of wonder.

Revelation

      Trace your hands across me, leave an imprint like hieroglyphics in the sand, a caress of foam and waves. My life has not been full of oysters and tenderness but as the reverberation of my soul mounts to your song I am flummoxed by the simple beauty of it.

With my skirt rucked up against a white washed wall all I see through my meshed lashes are star bursts of sunlight where once there was a verdigris cupola under a cerulean sky and angles of ancient baked clay tiles. And I shake, shake, shake, dancing to our rhythm with abandon, half lucid, half lost in a world I have never known. A symphony of sighs reaches its pinnacle and I begin to fall, sated, floating down like a feather in the wind, occasionally caught in updrafts of near memory.
      And now I understand. I am plucked from the bloom. A fallen rose petal. Tarnished in perfume and promise. What would mother say? Or the Cardinal? But in my glow of satisfaction what care I? The copper roof in all its weathered imperfection still holds the rook as I will hold you. Close in my heart. And I shall be the greater for some verdigris. Taros in Memoriam.

A New Beginning

Aria stood in the courtyard and breathed in the peace and serenity, holding it to her so that this moment would remain encased in her ribs, safe at her crimson heart. The impluvium sat at the heart of the space singing its secrets, the trickle of water marking the place where copperhead pots had been filled daily for centuries. A star-form lantern hung in a constricted caligraphy of metal and glass, gleaming in the light, sending prisms of coloured reflections to decorate the tiled floor.
This was a magical space.
A space of new beginnings. It held possibilities more precious than all the treasures of the royal households.
A man with smiling unguarded eyes came forward to greet her with warmth and generous hospitality. Inspire of his craggy exterior she sensed he was soft to the core, kind, a man who appreciated the simple pleasures and would know the way to a small child's heart. She felt the taut pocket in the hem of her sleeve for reassurance. Her wedding ring lay secreted within, wadded with a lavender handkerchief. She heard again the voice of her grandmother.
"I have sewn into the hem your past and your future. The gold will fetch a good price. Keep it safe, keep it hidden, until you need it."
Aria spoke haltingly in a language that felt awkward on her tongue
"I have come a long way. Can you help me?  I'm looking for Jamilla."
Her future could begin here, hidden in this world within worlds she could learn to leave the fear behind.

Do You Hear The Earth Breathe?

      Still jovial thoughts jostled against the shoreline as they sat in the fisherman's hut.

      "Have you ever heard the earth breathe?" Chopin asked.

      "Have you sir," Kate replied, "it is a jovial thought."

      "Ah, not so Kate. She sighs to me in music, in chords and vibrations, sighs upon the the autumn shore. It is not jovial to hear the earth breath. She seems deep in uffish thought.

      "But surely that is just the year turning to her chamber for sleep and refreshment" she said honestly. His thoughts were perplexing to her.

      "No. Look at the sea. The earth drags herself from her lover, never certain. One minute the sea caresses the shore, next he retreats and turns his back and she is oft bereft. Was there ever such in an inconstant love?"

      "But Sir, the succulent moon shines down and turns her glittering light upon both equally. Surely this is some compensation."

      "Ah, yes dear Kate," said Chopin,"but do you see the earth flirt with the moon? No. It is the sea who frolics with silver horses and dimpled treasures under the moons gaze. The earth, she is not jovial. She is tired, lumpen, full of- and beaten by- the cares of the planets. Deserted by the sea as the moon pulls on her puppet strings.  But the sea is teaming with playful thoughts, tickling the fish as they swim through his greens and blues, dancing through storms, brawling with the wind, free to roam at will. Honestly tell me again, now do you hear the earth breathe Kate?"

       Kate thought for a moment unwilling to leave Chopin in this melancholy state of mind.

      "No Sir, I do not. But I do see the stars in the heavens sparkle with longing, with sisterhood. They are shining their light daily upon the earth reminding her that she is not alone, for all the sea's inconstancy. They wink out their secret belonging and show their unity with the earth. So I will not have her sad or lonely Sir."

      Chopin gazed a moment in thought. He gazed again at the sea turning its back on the shore, at the pale daylight moon, the puppet master of earths caress and his mood lifted as he realised how outnumbered the moon was by comforting stars.

Born With a Rainbow Spoon.

Dance with freedom, evoke the spirit, open into fretful abandon. Shake of the coddled handshake of imperfect connections and embrace the world whole heartedly. Even a seagull in a puddle can squeeze mud through his toes.  

Heal your broken shell, or at least see the mother of pearl within its tender secret heart. Oh baby. Baby, it’s a wild world. It’s not dull. Not flawless either, but not dull.  It is full of the beauty of reticulations’ unexpected treasure. 

Slough of the fashion spiral, show of your pearlised playful side, gleam in the sun for all you are worth. 

Stir all the ingredients of life with a rainbow spoon. With a hopeful spiral and a heartfelt wish turn them into a banquet of your choosing. 

Galvanise your soul against delicate imperfections and enamel a rainbow of your own. Find a higher high and take it as your own.