There has been a running issue in my writing for some time now balancing the “hope” I live with the characters in hopeless situations that I create.
A tension was created, everything I wrote seemed trite and twee if I included “hope”
on a whim I wrote a piece for writing group on Friday morning next and
“by jove, I think she’s got it!”
judge for yourself:
“Could this be love”
Eagle talk is all I heard. These magnificent creatures that could swoop down at great speed after spying some tasty morsel, a kit of a rabbit perhaps and carry it in its talons to a feeding place. Eagles that sat in caves preening, cleaning and plucking out feathers. The talk turned to us – we could soar like eagles.
Poppycock! Try living life as a bird that hasn’t just had its wings clipped but chopped off. You’ll fly no more. I left, I couldn’t cope with these moral high ladies who talked about a God who loves. If he loved so much why was I sat in this situation? I had questions but no one to ask.
This body scarred and bruised by self and well as the saying goes marry in haste… I have tons of leisure time to reflect on that hastiness. One day married, the next a rainbow coloured mark around my eye. But to leave this, which was my only stability, to leave was never an option. Threats of finding, searching, discovering and punishing were ever present.
Eagles, pshew, they had a life, soaring above the world, observing us like ants in a farm, ever watchful waiting for the next meal to appear naively from a whitethorn row. Patchwork hills and valleys hiding sorrow and loss, masking brutality in the name of marriage, veiling despair and hopelessness.
Tonight though I woke in a cold sweat from the oddest of dreams, the day that brought eagles had turned into a night filled with awe. A song played in the background of the encounter, a soundtrack from a previous decade “Could this be love?” the singer asked. The voice in the dream, there was a face, or an image of a face, or a shadow but each time I tried to look at it straight it moved to the corner of my eye again. The voice spoke not to my mind but to my very core. It changed everything. It said “he does not love you or respect you, you can leave. I love you now as I always have and always will. I love you. Full stop.”
I did not sleep again, I lay still, bathed in a beautiful peace that transcended the situation. As the new day dawned I stretched out my arms feeling the wings that I thought long gone, stretching out unseen, waiting for the time of flight, waiting for direction. Waiting in hope.