Snapshots from Green Victoria (tedwords) wrote,
Snapshots from Green Victoria
tedwords

Gone camping

Well, we'll be heading off for camping tomorrow morning. Bound for Maine. Won't return until Wednesday. No electricity and no Live Journal. Cocoon time.

Y'all take care of yourself. Right now, I'm in a state of shock, and trying the best I know how to recover. This is ripping my soul out, but I'll be okay. My friend Leslie sent me the lyrics to "I Will Survive" this afternoon, but I have another song going through my head.

A song, attached to a memory. Traveling home from Chicago, high in the air, as the sun was slowly setting, and the sky was a brilliant firebird suite of colors, mostly husky reds and oranges, with some straggling blues still dotting the odd corner like a recalcitrant hobo. And clouds, wispy, forgetful clouds.

I sat in the cushy comfort of the airplane seat with headphones placed to my ears, my body relaxed, my eyes half closed, my palms open to the world. I listened to the opening strains of this gentle, lilting song. And a feeling engulfed me. A feeling. A feeling of peace.

And I thought, "I could die here. I could die here like this and have no regrets."

And perhaps, it would have been better if I had.

So I write. I make no guarantees that I write well. But I write, nonetheless. A licking of the wounds put to paper.

My friend Mary Ellen says that this is the tough part, but it will get better, and that ultimately, we're doing the kids a favor. Teaching them to be strong. Teaching them not to live a life of lies. And perhaps she's right. At this point in time, however, I'm more convinced that there's a special spot in hell reserved just for the two of us.

There will be more to say later on. But right now, I turn computer off and try desperately to hear those opening strains again.



The sun, whose rays
Are all ablaze
With ever-living glory,
Does not deny
His majesty--
He scorns to tell a story!
He don't exclaim,
"I blush for shame,
So kindly be indulgent."
But, fierce and bold,
In fiery gold,
He glories all effulgent!

I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky--
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!

I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky--
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!

Observe his flame,
That placid dame,
The moon's Celestial Highness;
There's not a trace
Upon her face
Of diffidence or shyness:
She borrows light
That, through the night,
Mankind may all acclaim her!
And, truth to tell,
She lights up well,
So I, for one, don't blame her!

Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!

Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!

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