I need to write about Yesterday,
So we don’t forget.
Not you, not I, will ever forget.
We shouldn’t. We mustn’t.
I think from this moment onwards
I’ll always refer to yesterday, as Yesterday.
Yes, a capital Y.
It needs to be.
It has to be.
We’ll call it Yesterday, two days from now,
We’ll call it that, a week from now,
And even as the years go by,
That’s what it will always be.
I need to write about Yesterday,
Are we moving pictures,
Silhouettes that float
Against the backdrop of the unknowable?
We try so hard to remember
And yet we’ve forgotten some of our stories,
Lost episodes whose fragments float aimlessly
As echoes in outer space.
When they’re heard,
If they’re heard,
I wonder if it will quicken the listener’s pulse
Or have we been so lucky to be one among few
To know of what words can do to the heart?
There are days
when I wish the seas would shrink
in kindness and let everyone be
an arm’s length away.
And if that is too much
affection to ask of them,
Then I hope the wind will be more forgiving,
and instead of drowning out our words
they carry them across those cruel seas,
and over veiling mountains.
But all of this, even if it were to come true,
and these forces showed us some grace,
it would be such wasted favor if
we had nothing left to say.
The future holds in its hands, nothing.
In the copious time I’ve held my gaze at it
All I see is this white place,
A docile sheet of paper laying on a desk.
Sometimes there are lines draw across it
As if tempting me to fill them with words I do not have.
Maybe that’s why I keep looking backwards,
And no, not in a simple glance over my shoulder either.
My entire being faces the past and everything it encompasses.
In it I see the riches of moments and the spoils of nostalgia.
It is quite a view.
I loved the day when the swords
fell from the sky
and you and I did nothing
but dance to avoid them
until we tangled into one.
Even in that illusion
I’ve never felt something so real.
And even if yours is a face
I’ll sinfully forget,
I’d hope that time is kind enough
to let this memory remain.
I only let go assuming I’d be back again.
So I turn 23 today, apparently.
It’s been a few years since I’ve written one of these self reflective pieces so I think I’ll give it a go this year.
Where am I at? I’m not quite sure. I remember saying something similar last time I wrote one of these. I wonder if it means I’ve not made any progress. I feel that much has changed but in such a way that nothing seems to have. I feel calm tonight and not even the sweltering heat of the Middle Eastern summer makes me feel restless. I’d like to think that this is due to song I’ve been listening to today.
It’s one that I saved to my playlist quite a while ago but today I decided to hear it again. It’s called “The Long Way” by this Irish band called The Coronas. I don’t know what it is about it but it’s the type of song that makes you feel nostalgic about the future. Is that even possible? When I listen to it I see myself, aged and grey, still trying my best to walk ahead of the people in front of me but I also see someone walking beside me. And somehow this memory, that doesn’t exist yet, transitions to a cool night where the wind is a temperature that’s kind to my skin and yours, whoever you are.
Maybe we’ll make a bonfire, who knows?
Apologies for the time away.
What is it that you whisper in my ear,
As we lie underneath these sheets,
This is yet another dream, I fear.
One where I know when I awake,
I’ll have dried tears running down my face,
And you’ll fade into the faintest memory.
So while we’re here in this world of white and softness,
Let me lean in close and hear you say something softer.
For your words are Gospel
And although you’ll not witness me kneeling,
I’ll still bury my face in your neck.
And really, that’s worship just the same.
Not sure where this came from. Maybe a dream. Maybe my imagination. But it’s here now.
Dear, you’ve stolen all the stars in the sky,
You’ve draped it in a veil.
As I look to heaven all I see is the ink you’ve spilled
But if only I could utter
A single sentence or phrase
Of a promise I once made.
For you, star stealer, I’d scream it
Out into wind
So jackals would prick their ears up
And hear of the promise I had made.
I’d said stay with me forever,
I’ll give all my time to you.
For you I’d move the mountains
Even an ocean or two.
As forever stood before us
I heard the sirens ring
A fire it had risen
And set a lit your bed.
And then you were burning too
Your shape turned into smoke
It rose and blotted out the sky
And every star as well.
She was there that day,
Waiting for the rain to let up
And let them on their way.
Not only did it refuse to stop,
But all the clouds grew darker,
And the rain grew fierce with rage.
The child gripping at her coat
Tugged at it to get her attention.
She looked down and saw his eyes
Reflecting the stormy sky.
She wonder what she could say
To make him feel at ease,
And thus she uttered an easy lie.
“We’ll be home soon enough”.
And just as those words were said
A fork of lightning lit up over their heads,
The trees shuddered
And so did they.
You smell of fantasy,
like a book so old
that the dust on its surface
pollinates my skin.
And as I let myself
breathe all of you in,
I think of all the words you’ve uttered,
Every umm, snicker,
And lost train of thought.
My mind wanders the rails
They came off
and as I place my ear against
the cold bare metal,
I swear I hear the echoes.
I can’t help
but have such thoughts
blossom in my mind,
For whenever you are near
I am always so restless.