The year of blood stretched its weary limbs. Clots dripped in the half-light.
The new year of ice bared its teeth. They are mine now, the wind whistled. And they have done it all themselves.
But in one corner, one quiet corner, the green and yellow nestled. It would take time, a long time, and human touch and heat, but the blood and the winter would come to an end. That time was coming. Hope could be felt.
The shortest day beckons sunlight.
The darkest night is before the dawn.
The path ahead may be through the shadows
but even this will pass.
***
The longest day brings an abundance of light.
Banishes all darkness & shadows.
At night, short & sweet:
Only dreams
Of hope.
***
Dreams of colour, splintered light.
The darkness behind the mirror leaves us with the shortest night.
And hope slow burns.
Honoured to share a page with Karina Brink @KarinaMSzczurek
There! A way through! Hope rushed through his veins. But no, he’d tried that before. The hope soured into a sickening slow poison.
The darkness hides the miles; they’re gone.
A whispered word
and a wish tied together fly –
tomorrow spring birds will sing.
Air settles heavy around us
and gravity wears us down.
My shoulders bend, my chest caves, my legs lose their feeling.
And then, for a moment, a breath’s time,
the flame is glimpsed in the distance.
If we believe the candle can resist the storm, it may. It may.
I will hold my hands around the flame for you.
You know who I am don’t you? It was many years ago but you know who I am. I can see it in your eyes. You know I’m not just a regular house breaker with a gun and pliers and duct tape. Now you’re remembering the little boy hiding in the street as you drove away. And just now you’re wondering whether to move but you know it would do more bad than good. It would be slower. Yes, that was me hiding there all those years ago. Those years you have had but we didn’t. They were long years. Did you enjoy them? Did you savour each moment like a ice cube to a man in the desert? I hope you did.
Hope. Yes, I always had that. For all those years. I could not have survived without it. How does it feel not to have hope? How does it feel to feel like you do now?
“Put me out to stud! I said – oh for Silver’s sake, get your hands out of my mouth. How am I supposed to be a man whisperer if you won’t let me whisper. I know you’re nearly bankrupt but you can afford me. Buy me and put me out to stud. The whispering ponies will be worth their weight in gold.”
Jeb let go of the horse and scratched his head. He had a strange feeling that if he bought this horse all his money worries would simply disappear. And he wouldn’t use him in the field. He would breed from him and sell the ponies.
“What have you done? We’ll be ruined!”
“Don’t worry Mother, the ponies will save us.”
Unfortunately, a year later his mother was proved right and the bank took their farm. In the warm stable the tired yet happy Man Whisperer planned his next move.
Also posted at http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2014/10/24/flash-friday-vol-2-46/ 24 October 2014
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