My Heart

My heart is my secret weapon.

No one knows, only I.

I know how to pull back the bowstring, just right, not to far, and not too loose. Then let go. Let it go and do as it will. Ascend into the air and fall where it must. That’s the important part – plan and let go. Let the arrow do it’s job.

It was an odd day. It was the Day of The Snow Eclipse. No one invited it. It just happened. An unwelcome visitor ending festivities minutes after completion, too soon.

I pulled out a shawl I tucked away in case, always in case, it is needed. I wrapped it around to warm my shoulders.  It’s magenta of the softest wool spun by hand and knit with intention. Each stitch pulled and tied with meaning, hope for outcome. Yet leaving the wearer to do as they will.

The crowd dispersed quickly as the dry flakes floated to their rest. Really, a quick melt. The days had been warm, so a long life was not in their cards. A party of white would have to wait for the days to come.

I packed my cards and small table, cloth and electric candles into the petite suitcase that had been carried by my grandmother a century ago with its precious cargo nestled inside. Now, it was electric candles instead of beeswax because today’s weather brings little rain and only dry snow. It was a labor of love as I placed each ancestral piece into its own spot carved out of foam covered with silk cloth.

With a click, a lock secured the broken clasp that no longer held itself together, time having worn it down to indifference.

I stood, handle firmly gripped as I lifted what shouldn’t be heavy, yet it always was at the end of a long day of reading and inquiry. Straightening my back and taking a step forward, my booted foot caught the fringe of my skirt and I felt myself in free fall. You know the one, when time seems to stop and you tell yourself that you are falling, as if you didn’t know. And you fall with nothing to catch yourself, tumbling over the small suitcase, and one more time just for assurance’s sake.

It’s not so bad when one is all alone. In the dark and quiet and the words can flow with ease.

Before I could take a breath, I heard a snicker.

Great. Someone saw my graceful tango with fringe, boot, and suitcase.

Unable to untangle myself, I didn’t turn around or hold back to see the origin of the annoyance.

“So don’t why don’t you make yourself useful and…”

Before I could finish, a leather gloved hand, graceful but strong offered itself. Green leather, a bronze patina. Small swirls edged into it with a delicate finesse.

“And so I shall,” a gentle voice flowed over me.

Oh, yes. I forget too easily about my secret weapon.

Thankfully, the honeyed scent from the arm now balancing me,

reminded me,

reminded me,

remind me…

 

Author’s Note:

Today we met to write. My first line chosen at random was : My heart is my secret weapon.

The words to include: eclipse, invited, minutes, sincker, magaenta, colleague, ascend, and labor. I think I only missed “colleague.”

 

 

 

 

Selenelion

The moon glowed red orangelunar-eclipse
and the sun rose above the horizon
both at the same time in the same sky
an eclipse and a sunrise not possible
in the same morning sky for my eyes
to see, but they were there, together
I guess nothing is impossible

I drown between the eclipsed moon
and rising sun, my breath is stilled
between tides that flow from one
to the other and back again
I cannot breathe, I wander in shadows
left behind, I search for your light
a way to find where I am going, what I am
I cannot see the path, feel your exhalation
your touch to assuage the rough edges
filed into my being

You are distant without sound, I cannot
hear your sweet voice, but like the red
orange moon and the rising sun
in the same sky, I guess nothing is
impossible, to find light in the undertow
I whirl in the depths with no hand to hold
I can and will find you