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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: another me

refuge ~

07 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by tornadoday in home, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

another me, another time, dreams, home, life, love, memory, recollection, truth, writing in the dark

in moments
just before the dream
I recall another life
sunlight through the curtains –
a whispering of pines
waiting by my window
watching for a sign
for another you –
come some other time

and for a while
there is no distance
greater than a sigh –
no night
denied of sleep
would I divide
between the life I understand
and another lived apart
safe as is my pillow –
a refuge to
my heart

. . .

of time ~

28 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by tornadoday in home, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

another me, becoming, breath, destiny, life, love, memory, moments, sorrow, spirit, stars, time, truth, wishes, words

for every sorrow
I was traded –
for a wish
beneath the stars
a breath
that was my pillow
spared of dreams
words
are given pardon
and a place
I still belong –
carried me
cross every night
between

becoming this
a lover’s rite
spun into a page –
verses wrapped
in verses
senseless rhyme
remembered
to another
where destinies
entwined –
wishes fell
to break the spell
of time

. . .

edges ~

19 Wednesday Aug 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

all I know of living, another me, destiny, faith, life, living, love, memory, moments, morning, mystery, sometimes, trust, truth

in the still
that is your morning
do you drift on yesterday
as your coffee cools –
do you linger
for a while

with pieces
oft forsaken –
tho sharp the edges be
do they steal your breath
and leave you
with a smile

sometimes
my best intentions
are just reminders of the past
daylight spun to corners
in my mind

til the lure
of presence binds me –
to the place where living waits
tethered by a moment
of divine

. . .

a story never yours ~

17 Monday Aug 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

another me, kiss, life, love, memory, missing, spirit, story, time, truth

I’ve heard tell
you can’t go back
to a place beyond remembrance –
a story never yours
never will

I cheated
each surrender –
sometimes without regard
to worlds I left
another
standing still

with fortunes
undecided
by a kiss I scarce recall
– a jealous moon
seeks payment
for a kiss

I am all
as I am nothing
lines across your brow –
a moment spared
for every one
I missed

. . .

of sighs ~

02 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

another me, blessings, books, dreams, home, life, love, memory, one more day, parallel lives, reading, sometimes, story, time, truth

So, it’s been a while since I offered something more than poetry and prose. I’ve commented more than once that my family loves my non-poetic efforts best because they’re easier to understand. Go figure!beforethis

I’m a reader. It’s as much a part of my DNA as long fingers and dark chocolate eyes. It’s not something I do, but rather who I am. Most all my books are in pristine shape because I treat them as friends, not just books. They are places and stories, and people that I fall in love with over and over again.

But some of my copies (my personal, ‘don’t let me go’ copies) are filled with dog-eared pages, cards, notes and highlighter – placeholders for words that I wish I had penned, thoughts I wish I had been able to express with such simplicity. They are the hidden treasure in every book I own. Funny, I used to think that Stephen King’s reference to characters and places from another book were the treasure. That’s not so, or at least, it’s not so now.

Last night, or rather early this morning, I finished “The Bridge of Sighs”, and it was just such a book. It took forever to start, but once started, I didn’t want it to end. I fell in love with Bobby, Lou and Sarah. At various times, their struggles aligned with mine, and even where they didn’t, I caught glimmers of people I know and love within their stories.

I want to share one such quote from the book. Maybe it will be enough to inspire you to find the book yourself, but if not, you’ll have this taste.

“Not long ago, Lou asked me if I thought he’d stolen my rightful destiny in marrying me. I told him the truth, that I loved him and I didn’t regret anything about our lives together. But do we ever tell ‘the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, so help me God,’ as my father used to say, to those we love? Or even to ourselves? Don’t even the best and most fortunate of lives hint at other possibilities, at a different kind of sweetness and, yes, bitterness too? Isn’t this why we can’t help feeling cheated, even we know we haven’t been?”

Those words resonated with me, and likely with most every person over the age of fifty.  Try as we might, we can’t help but be intrigued by the thought of a parallel life where those we love are still fixing breakfast, opening the diner, or taking out the trash – an alternate universe with a different life – maybe one we were meant to live – or one that time and fate managed away from us.

I don’t know the answer to your questions. I don’t even know the answers to my own. But what I do know is that life is incredibly sweet, regardless our misgivings, ugly truths and almost might-have-beens. We are surely blessed even in our disappointments and wonderings.

My daddy once said that there’s the life we live and the life we dream. If we’re lucky, at some point in our lives, even if just for a day, they are the same.

Let us never stop looking for those places where we wrap our arms around both – where we fall in love again with our own story.

were not for winds
those prideful storms
that ripped our fates apart
would not my hand
be found in yours
my heart within your heart

this I know
despite the rest –
the days to pass between
your soul remains a part of all
– the lives I live
and dream

❤

memories of memory ~

07 Thursday May 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

another me, emily, life, longing, love, magic, memory, mystery, rambling, romance, sometimes, time, wonder, writing in the dark

Medicine-Woman-Seeking-Solitude-1915-courtesy-Library-of-Congress

whatever was
so misconstrued
how was I to ever
hang my heart on magic –
endear my trust to lies
whatever loss
might I confess
to moments
so enduring –
as those who came
who left without goodbye

should history
remember me
to something less
romantic –
a purple bruise
beneath a jaded sky
scripted as
a sleepless night –
burdened by my longing
with memories
of memory –
and ne’er a tear
to cry

. . .

love we carried ~

21 Tuesday Apr 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

acceptance, another me, love, memory, moments, reflection, remembered home, soul speak, truth, writing in the dark

buds

I know this path
familiar
unfamiliar
as the river
that scores my hand
the knowing prophesy
of life
and all that love
imagines us
into being

I know these blossoms
they are friends of mine
names I’ve misplaced
times
that left me wanting
empty for a drink
of remember

I know this way
as once I lingered
somewhere else
another me
was here the same
tho not made wise
by the memory
of love
we carried

. . .

weaver ~

30 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

another me, beginning, birth, death, home, life, love, mystery, seasons, story, time, truth, unremembering

closerthis

I was a story
born of will and ink
before I knew
to know you well
for all I was ~
another choice
with one more truth
to tell
another me
some other time
tho lifetimes lay between
the start
and this beginning
was nothing
as it seemed
of birth and breath
goodbye and then
to meet again somewhere
beyond the grace
of giving ~
another dream to share
where weaving
I have noticed
lines to write anew
seasons come from waiting
watching –
a moment
passing thru

. . .

Recent Posts

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Blog at WordPress.com.

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

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