leap year

Page Fifty-seven

Friday 26 Feb 2010      Turners Falls

Writing in the land of trolls again today, at the library. Still living in Greenfield.

Two years ago today it was leap day, Friday 29 February 2008. The last day of the last full month I had in my own life, and it was an extra day. I wanted it to last for years. To go on, that leap day, and the clock and the calendar stand still on the last day of the last whole month I had with my animals. For nothing to move, so that the sheriff’s deputy would never come on March 11. So that we would never be torn apart. So that I could keep my world.

                                                                           

No matter how much any person at any time wants the clock to stand still, it never will. In spite of our extra February day, March 11 did come, and we were torn apart, and my own life and my own world ended.

I have no specific memory of that leap day. Movers had come the day before to take some of my stuff to a storage unit. But without my journals (which are in someone’s barn at this moment), I have no specific memories of that day that’s given to us only every four years. I wish I did. I wish I had the journals back. I should have had them by now, but the person who is supposed to move out of the efficiency apartment I’m going to get has been stalling around for three months.

The worst anniversary on the calendar breathes down my neck now. The anniversary of the most severe trauma of my life, by far. There are no hands to hold mine when that day comes, either literally or any other way. There is rarely any human caring for me at the very worst times.

Leap day led to us leaping into the ending, a leap we were pushed into, that wasn’t made willingly. Pushed, shoved and ruined by other human beings. What would you feel for such people if you were me? Pity for people who practice such viciousness? Why should they be pitied for being wicked? Forgiveness? Go ahead, but I’m not joining you there.

~~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (clip art photo)

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slogging, blogging

Page Fifty-six

Thursday 18 February 2010

That’s what my days are, slogging. I determined when I began blogging almost two years ago to tell the truth. The truth that I’ve had to live for these 23 months is sad, depressing and ugly. Hence I have few readers. I’ve developed the impression that most people go to blogs to be entertained, and I can’t offer that. I continue to hope, maybe in vain, that a few people will come to WordPress looking for truth, even if that truth is hard to read.

Update

Now it’ 2011. My observations remain the same: most people come to the world of online journals to be entertained. They want news (rehash, rehash), book and movie and game reviews, they want funny. I have no entertainment to offer. Only a hard life that ended (as I knew it) because of other people’s cruelty; only Matthew Lacoy’s words about still other things going on in my life at that time; mostly poems and drawings and photos made long ago, while I still had that other life I knew; mostly only the grim aftermath of what was done to us. True people. True animals. True life (though not a happy saga). Poems. Pictures. And now books, but not the kinds of books people are seeking in the cyberspace world.

~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~~

 (clip art photo)

 

digging in the memory

Page Fifty-five

Friday 12 Feb 2010

I’ve put these lyrics on my Soulcast blog, oh, probably two years ago. But that site is now plagued by many difficulties, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to that blog. So here come these lyrics again, just because I feel, again. like putting them in cyberspace for my stolen animals.

Brave Hearts                             

 

Many moons I’ve waited
for your spirits to come.
Many moons have faded,
risen and set have many suns.
You are the water’s spirit.
You live in loud and quiet light.
Music needs souls to hear it:
You hear the music in the light.
Where is the sunlight biding
when it is not in your eyes?
Where is the moonlight hiding,
when it is not where you rise?

 

Many days, in darkness waiting,
when I could not see my road.
Lonely ways, far from you bending.
Murmurring shadows behind my soul.
Many tales time has told.
Life is new, life is old.
From this path I cannot part:
my feet follow your brave hearts.

 

All bright waters laughing,
rivers and rills and rolling falls.
Spirit like waters running,
rushes to earthbed when it falls.
I go with water’s spirit.
I seek the loud and quiet light.
Your shadows sing: I hear it.
We are still one in brave light.

 

~~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

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phantoms

Page Fifty-four

Thursday 11 February 2010, Turners Falls

Another anniversary. Exactly 11 years ago, on Thursday 11 February 1999, my father died. I’m in Turners today, as always, to wander through my memories. To haunt the streets and waters of Turners as the phantom that I have become since my own life was taken from me. There’s no greater emptiness that I can think of than to have everything that you defined as your life stolen, not by an earthquake or a flood (that’s bad enough), but by the viciousness and ill will of other people.

Drifting around for my father’s anniversary. Drifting for nano-seconds when I can both feel and see myself and my animals in these places. Hearing in memory the nasty words, and many lies of the three women who were the major players in depriving me of what was my life. Seeing in memory both the warm smiles that were canny and totally fake, and the iron-hard looks full of ugliness. Women. My sisters. Or so we were brainwashed in the sixties and seventies, the heydey of the women’s movement. Not my sisters in any sense of the word at all, these snakes. Not my sisters at all.

~~~~~~~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (e.balivet tapestry a www.gaelsong.com)

 

februariana

Page Fifty-three

1. Tues 2 Feb 2010, Greenfield

     A Marriage, on Friday 1 February 1952

2. Mon 8 Feb 2010, Turners Falls

     Skinny Fish      little lellow guppy

                      6 February 1997

3. Thursday 11 February 2010, Turners Falls

                         Bill Nakis, 17 March 1926

                       to Thurs 11 February 1999

                        not a mafia man; not that

     Pepper…   good good grey guy

                       1991 —  13 Feb 2001

4. Wednesday 17 February 2010, Turners Falls

      Tony      tonio, wherefore art thou tonio

                      1991 to Wed 18 February 1998

5. Friday 19 February 2010, Turners Falls

     Braon       the omega mistress of  toys

                Tues 20 July 1999 to Sat 19 Feb 2005

    Bandit     bandy bendybones bum

                     July 1986 to Sun 19 Feb 1995

 

today, eleven years ago

Page Fifty-two

Tuesday 2 Feb 2010, Turners Falls

Came to Turners today to wander through more memories. Memories of my own life, gone for nearly two years now.

So many of these anniversaries are sad ones, and what I came to town for today is no exception. Eleven years ago today, exactly (Tues 2 Feb 1999), I had my last chance to speak to my dying father. When he came to the phone and heard it was me, he said not one word. Put the phone down on the desk and wheeled himself away in his wheelchair. Then my brother came back to the phone and told me he’d thought my father wanted to talk to me, but he’d been wrong. He also told me that my uncle, my father’s much younger brother, had died two days before on Sunday 31 January. My father ended up dying on February 11, so these brothers died only 11 days apart, 11 years ago. All of this was devastating to me then, and on the anniversaries, it is still extremely painful. Both of them chose to die.

You might read that and think that that was a cruel thing for my father to do to me. That’s what I think. And certainly it wasn’t the only time my father had been mean to me, but it was the last.  And yet, in spite of it all, my father was in certain ways the better of my two parents.

other posts today:   Braon,  Sehnen

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2011 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.