320. Wash Me

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Wash me in cleansing waters.

Purify my aching brain.

Rinse out all these memories,

So I can start again.

There’s not enough water on Earth,

To wash away my shame;

The only thing it’ll wash away,

Is blood shed in my name.

Wash me in cleansing waters.

I cannot stand this pain.

My skin is burning underneath,

And it’s driving me insane.

K. Aldaya, 9/18/15

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://t-ears.tumblr.com/post/25614458678

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319. A Story of Youth

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Delivered in the Winter,

Of 1869,

Without mother or father.

I entered the world alone,

And was placed up for a home.

Men and women entered,

To stand and contemplate,

Whether it would be absurd,

To obtain something like me;

Many parents and kids could not agree.

Then after months, one day,

A family saw me,

And resolved they’d indeed pay…

My way into their fine life;

A daughter, father, and loving wife.

Days slipped by without thought,

Or a care in the world,

And soon those days were forgot,

In all of the excitement.

In comfort each day was spent.

I had a family,

And spent each day playing,

With my sweet sister, Emily.

We were best friends forever.

Our bond no one could sever.

We played dress-up and sang,

Of the delight of youth.

Serving black tea and meringue,

In gardens in the Springtime.

Life felt loving and sublime.

Change is a part of life,

And though I knew this well.

It still cut me like a knife,

When Emily ignored me;

And spent no more time with me.

One day in our bedroom,

She saw me, and she sighed.

Then kicked me into a tomb;

And there within that closet,

I sat and cried ’til sunset.

Soon it became routine,

To be hit and disdained;

And no one cared she was mean.

For I was not born to be,

A blood member of the family.

Then a brother was born,

And he would hurt me too.

No one cared my heart was torn;

And no one would rescue me,

Or heal my battered body.

Emily, in Winter,

Many long years later,

Looked at me, and I at her.

With my eyes I cried to her:

“Don’t you miss how things once were?”

“Emily, I love you.”

“The only love I’ve known,

Came from my friendship with you.”

“My only family’s here.”

“So please do not leave me here!”

She reached her hand to mine,

And walked to the window.

Then her eyes returned to mine,

And with disgust she pushed me;

Without time to scream, or plea.

I could no longer feel.

My face was lined with scars.

My legs broke from the ordeal,

And yet I begged forgiveness,

For being born so worthless.

All I wanted was love.

To give and receive it.

For a moment we felt love,

Before expectations changed.

After all: Society’s deranged!

Love grows and fades away.

Nothing lasts forever.

Beauty and youth fade away,

And a souls’ worth goes with it.

The world yells to reject it!

Out with old. In with new.

So the story still goes.

In time, spurned; replaced with the new.

When the novelty runs out,

All things are, like trash, thrown out.

I died in the Winter,

Of 1883.

When my kind, loving sister,

Was no longer young and small,

And too old for childish things, like me, her porcelain doll.

K. Aldaya, 9/17/15

Picture: Painter unknown;  http://www.edmondhistory.org/events/victorian-tea/

318. Privation

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I don’t want it to end,

Though I know it cannot last.

I can’t stay and pretend,

That this is going to last.

I can’t hold you ’til the end.

In this moment of protection,

Holding tight against your form,

An internal interjection,

Rages on into a storm:

Imbuing sound dejection.

I can not hold you here with me.

I can not hold you down.

You weren’t meant to live for me.

I’ll only bring you down.

No love is ever free.

I long to lie against you,

For all time, just us two,

Feeling safe beside you;

Yet I know this can’t come true.

I won’t let you stay here too.

Fly out on your wings,

And I will be here waiting.

You’ve those resplendent wings,

So there’s no use debating.

You were meant for better things.

I’ll wake early each morning,

And sit beside the window,

Hoping time will one day bring…

You back here below;

In a distant Spring.

—I long for your touch again.

I long to feel your shelter.

It’s raining outside again.

As my tears run helter-skelter,

I etch them onto paper with pen.

Forgive me, I am weak.

I know it can not be;

Yet my heart continues to seek,

The comfort of your body.

Now all is dark and bleak.

Days slip by carelessly,

Forgetting mortal lives,

As I sit here dreaming endlessly,

Of former days and lives,

When you were next to me.

The hour has grown late,

And these cold hands are weary.

I know not the day or date,

Only that this night is eerie,

And tonight I meet my fate.

I leave here in this place,

In the countryside of the living,

My last words of embrace.

Some crimes find no forgiving,

But love still pleads its’ case;

And even if for one brief day,

Love is held onto,

When it is lost one day,

It still holds onto you,

Giving you reason to pray.

I didn’t want it to end there.

You were all that brought me comfort,

Though I knew I could never have lived there,

With myself, were you to avert,

Your fate for the welfare,

Of one mere fallen angel.

K. Aldaya, 9/11/15

Picture: “Roving Life” by Christine Muraton on Deviant Art; http://christine-muraton.deviantart.com/art/Roving-life-320468493