A Shadow Story

Have you ever thought about the stories that are hidden? You know, the ones that whisper from deep within the shadows of the books that have already been written? What follows is one such story—two “chapters” long, and stitched together from three different texts. Each paragraph addresses one or more issues I’ve been considering over the last few months in relation to my own life, and offers a nugget of insight worth pondering.

I

"Mysteries, she realized, had their own laws. No matter how marvelous they appeared to common folk, they still followed their own natural order. As a hound couldn't fly nor an apple tree blossom with roses, so those of the green had their own strictures that they must observe" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 88).

“First, look at people and try to find the truth within them. You need to understand people, really understand them, if you’re going to be a hero . . . . Second, beware of things that shine and glitter and make promises, especially promises that play on your weaknesses . . . . Third, you have to have a strong imagination” (Bode, 2007, p. 43).

"But knowing took the sight, to see beyond the world that is . . . and practical as housey-folk were, they believed only what they could hold and weigh . . ." (de Lindt, 1993, p. 92).

" . . . a good thing, to be sure, but a place of limited joys" (Dunkle, 2008, p. 3).

II

"The witch wanted him to feel again, but feeling encompassed remembering, and remembering only hurt. What use was the gift of the green if all it brought was pain?" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 136).

"We all carry the dark places inside us . . . ." "'I'm not . . .' Angharad began, but then she thought. Not what? Not a bad person? Perhaps. But had she never known anger? Never held unkind thoughts? The stranger's observation was valid. No one was innocent of darkness" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 85).

"She turned, not sure she could bear another of his sorrows. He might be able to forget them, but she could not. They were a part of her now. She took them willingly--for that was part of a poet's task--regretting only that in taking them, she did not lessen his burden" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 98).

"So Angharad sang to him before she left, a song of the loneliness that wisdom can sometimes bring--when the student won't listen, when the form is bound to the earth by its roots and only the mind ranges free" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 54).

References

Bode, N.E. (2007). The slippery map. NY: HarperCollins Publishers.

de Lindt, Charles. (1993). Into the green. NY: Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Dunkle, Clare. (2008). The sky inside. NY: Atheneum Books for Young Readers.

Misery

The passing, peaceful

The sorrow lingers
The heart aches
And silent fingers

Grip the grief
All alone
And wish I, too,
Had been called Home.

Cherice Montgomery, August 2007

Residue

She slipped away,
But left behind
Tear-stained cheeks
And grief-stained minds.

Cherice Montgomery, August 2007

Goodbye

A lifetime of living
And loving
Just doesn't fit
In the package.

The heart, too full.
The tears, too small.
The words, too few
To contain it all.

The loss, too great.
The grief, too new.
The wait, too long.
Dee, I'll miss you.

Cherice Montgomery, August 24, 2007

Progress?

The Passing, peaceful.
The eyes, blind--
Full of grief,
Left behind.

Cherice Montgomery, August 24, 2007

The Passing

The Passing, peaceful
The Ache, remains
The Heart, breaks
And Grief, stains.

The Treekeepers

As I read this today, I was captivated by the metaphor used to describe the interplay between grief, regret, and profound sorrow. This really resonated with me.

"Day after day Soladin cried, not with great sobs, but with leaking tears of regret . . . . Yet the relief tears usually give never came, and her grief grew day by day, as if a grave were being dug inside her that could never be large enough for all she must bury" (Britton, 2003, p. 161).

Britton, Susan McGee. (2003). The treekeepers. NY: Dutton Children's Books. ISBN 0-525-46944-3.

For My Friend

When your voice collapsed,
I knew your world had too.

So many layers
Of life
And so much love
Suddenly in pieces
On the floor of your heart.

Sharp shards of
Piercing pain
Etch grief
On every surface
Of the soul.

Heartfelt words
Echo hollowly--
Emphasizing
The emptiness
They were meant to fill.

My heart aches for you.

November 20, 2005

Once you let someone into you heart, they become a part of who you are, and you become a part of them. Neither divorce, death, nor distance can change that. Love integrates. Grief only testifies of love.

The Mosaic

In a flash of torrential trauma
Words intrude--
Hard, jagged edges
Ripping into her reverie,
Puncturing her peace,
Shattering her soul.

Stunned,
she stumbles,
then stands
sloshing, slogging,
through painful puddles
of gray grief

until sunshine emerges—

Evaporating
the wailing wind
into a weak whisper . . .
"Seek safety . . . in the shadows!"
it sighs,
. . . solace within the shards!"

They sparkle
in the scintillating sunlight
she collects—herself—
Colors connect,
catalyzing
catharsis.

—and energy expands

Filling the void
with multiplicity,
Mixing media
Restores reason
and roundness
to a Still Life.

Cherice Montgomery, October 8, 2005