/You own me with whispers like poetry/
/Your mouth is a melody that I’ve memorized/
/So sweet, I hear it echo/
/Everywhere I go day and night/
‘Tip of My Tongue’
The Civil Wars
Mary had a husband (more about him later) and two children. At the time Aries was twelve and (King) David was ten. Mary herself was thirteen years my senior, barely old enough to be my mother. Being twenty, I fit in somewhere as best friend – daughter and big sister. Although I hadn’t been looking for a surrogate home, but having been born into a dysfunctional family myself, I recognized and respected their kindness. Slowly, I relaxed into the quiet comfort of their family.
My relationship with the kids emerged as I interacted with them during dinners when I was coaxed into staying a while longer. Several months later Mary would comment, ‘You know, the kids look up to you.’
‘Really? Why?’ It seemed ridiculous to me. Looking up to someone - me of all people? Confused, I set out to understand by giving them my attention.
(King) David was a good-looking kid. His yellowy-green eyes were piercing; his hair, fair and thick, curled loosely and wildly into itself resembling my vision of what King David might’ve looked like. He was funny, sensitive and energetic. I saw myself in his nature. We both liked Metallica, hockey, and generally, we didn’t understand the paradigm of those around us. David is my godson.
About Aries…
Her ochre eyes
Bore the scars of love
Lady fingers
That wound their soul
Around my neck
Golden hair she would comb straight
Rested mid-way down her back
A petite frame that would crack
And rage into fire
Until it rained
And she remained
Simmering
In my arms
We’d sway to some song
Until the fire died
In the silence of this love
Nothing could hide
(Not even fear)
She was my goddaughter.
Sensitive and much too intimate with the crucibles of life for someone so young, Aries was not easily fooled. Passionate about her emotions she guarded them with an iron door, no one unworthy could get in. All these years later, I wonder if she thinks me the Trojan horse who thundered into her heart and destroyed it with a thousand swords. She was private and her secret heart was just that, a secret. Aries would script its contents in a journal I had no knowledge of. That journal would later be used by Goliath as a weapon; a virgin – made a harlot - in a profane war.
In the shadows of night, some whispers are heard. She replays them in her mind; hushed voices, muffled voices. Someone’s being scolded.
Aries
Carries
With her a secret heart
Full of worry
A jury
Who would judge all her love
All her pain
Call her name
And accuse her of loving another
A woman? Perhaps
And don’t you know
They said
She’s here every night
That’s not right
She’s not blood
So keep your lips tight
And your pretty eyes
On me
Remember Aries
She’s not family
Continued on Tuesday June 7th 2011
Until then, I remain yours,
Lesley
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