Heaven and Hell...

On a golden cloud,
dreaming of past times, smiling.
Future lasts for ever.

A round light rises
and shines among the big trees
in this dark forest,
you laughed and were happy ;
that’s what I tried to be, too.

Dull music, boring
life. Escape is near, now.
Stillness, calm. It comes.





No real inspiration these days...

Living City

She is sitting on this 2-feet high wall, built with red bricks and partially in ruins. From this well located spot, she can see the four crossing streets. On her right-hand side are Glum Street and Chalk Street. The sun rises from Chalk St every morning at 6. She loves this sight : the sleeping town shining with a new light. Life starts again from that very precise moment : workers leave their houses, mothers make breakfast, open the windows to air the bedrooms… Soon, she can hear children laughing as they go to school.
At the end of Chalk St, there is a sportground. No one goes there before the afternoon. Teenagers are lazy, nowadays. But they all arrive at the same time, around 3. She likes the sound made by their boards as they slide on the benches and on the edge of the pavement. There is a basket-ball court, too, chich once was a tennis ball court. It has been replaced a few years ago.

On Glum St, there are small houses inhabitated mainly by poor families. Women have to work a lot and to raise their children at the same time, it’s not easy. She often hears one crying baby. She knows he is raised by his father, a silent and angry man who lost his wife at the birth of the child. In their neighbours’ house, two little girls take care of the housework while their mum is working. She loves their ritual : cleaning the kitchen, washing the floors, making the beds, and eventually taking off yesterday’s page of the calendar. Then, one takes the old guitar and plays some music while the other dances.
On her left-hand side are Dean St and Maroon St. She loves Dean St, because of the name and because there are nice and wealthy people living on this street. These people are always in a hurry : in the morning, late for work ; in the evenings, late for the goodnight kiss to their children… She doesn’t know how they can live properly. For now, most of the houses are echoing with laughter, for parents didn’t go to work : it’s a holiday today. She loves being here and watching. She can hear Old Tom climbing the ladder.

“Hello you !”
”Hello beautiful ! What’s going on today ?”
“Not much. It seems that Henry still didn’t figure how to make his poor son quiet. Lily and Rose have done the cleaning. Lily knows some new steps, I think.”
“Oh, great…”. Old Tom pauses for a few seconds, just to admire the sight too.
She goes on, telling him about the wonderful lives of these people, down there. He is quietly listening to her joyous chatting. At some point, she stops and looks at him. Her hand touches his cheek, just in time to catch a droping tear.
“What’s going on ?”
“Nothing, really. It’s allright.”
She moves closer, to see his face properly. She notices a large bruise under his right eye. He wiped the blood away, but it still can be seen. She feels sad and sorry for him.
“What happened to you ?”
“Nothing, really. Nothing at all. Really… Life…”

Something in the Air Tonight?

You wake up some day, open your eyes and suddenly you don’t remember what was hard the night before. The weight has gone, you feel almost ok. You don’t know why, still, and this frightens you deeply. But you don’t think about that. You think about the lightness you feel, the warm comfort of being here, alive, unharmed. And you don’t know how the weight disappeared byt it’s fine anyway.
And you’re lying down, eyes open and you’re fine the way you are, or so you think. Because this lightness starts to weight upon your shoulders, upon your whole body… And you feel like this lightness is not real. You feel it and it’s not there. And you decide you will not let it take you down. But it’s hard to remain calm, and light as well. Because you know you’re making it up. You know it’s not there, you know it will eventually disappear and most of all you know it’s only some new deception you won’t recover from.

* * *

A tear drops and a smile starts to exist. It would be wonderful to be able to claim that you’re happy, that you feel this lightness and confidence you’ve lacked of for the past few weeks. It would be amazing to say that you are now ready to give this trust again, this incredible belief in someone. It would be wonderful to have someine near you, wonderful. You hope sometime it will happen. But you’re not so sure. Not so sure about anything… About him, about you, about them who no longer exist. Have they ever, or is it all a dream?

There And Back Again...

Scene 1
Open the eyes, smile, touch the sheets. Coldness, surprize. Get up, call, walk, get down. Call, call, call again. Open, look, close. Walk, open, stop. Scream, cry, walk, touch. Her skin was soft as a peach’s. Cry, get up, take it, cry, put it in the car. Open, start, close, drive. Two persons on the way, no more. The walls, no one else around. Open the gate, take it, close the door, enter. Take a shovel, dig, take it, put it in. Don’t cry, put the earth in the hole, go to the car, leave. Back in the house, think. Sleep a little, get up, think, don’t cry. No more singing, no more noise, the house is emptied from life.


Scene 2
Open the eyes, get up, walk, sit, eat, drink, get up. Seconds are dropping in the hourglass of Life. Get in, wash, get out, dry, fold, dress, brush, get out. Has anything changed since yesterday ? So much and so little.
Get out, lock, get down, open, close, walk. Outside, it’s shining. But inside ? Walk, breathe, wait, cross, walk, listen, watch. Wait for something. Something spectacular, incredible, something unforgettable, something that would make him important. Wait but nothing happens. Want to get over there, where there’s happiness. Want to, crave for that, but it’s not happening. What would it be like ?
Walk, breathe, wait. He is nowhere. What is this place ? Walk, run, bent, wait, get up, run, hide, wait, listen. Rifle in hand, everything is fine. Crawl, stop, get up, run, hide. He wasn’t ready, not yet. He can face himself in the mirror every morning, but can’t leave this house, no. He accepts loneliness and going would break this implicit agreement he made with himself. He will not do that. he will stay here, live here and die here.


Scene 3
Open the eyes, get up, withdraw the curtains. Sun, no clouds, blue sky. Go out, smell the flowers, go back in, eat and drink. He would get prepared and leave. Now he was almost ready. Pack the backpack, lace the shoes, take a deep breath. Open the door, close it. He would succeed, he would go there. He was prepared. He turned back, rifle in hand ; he was free now. No fear, no anxiety, it would be easy. It could.
Carefully, he got to the car. Open the trunk, put the rifle, close, open the door, get in, lock the door, start the engine, drive slowly. No one in the streets. He wouldn’t be disturbed. He was getting close, he could see it now, the huge rocky walls, and the gate too. No one in sight, just this old blue car, which he was used to now. Park the car, unlock, open, get out, lock, walk quickly but noiselessly.
The gate was open. Why ? Who had opened it ? When ? He last came two days ago, and was sure he had closed it properly. Look right, look left, right again. No one, no noise, no sign of life nowhere. Walk, open the gate, go in, close the gate. He was safe inside, before : there was the lock. But now ? He stood still, listening, but there wasn’t any noise. Everything was calm, quiet, lifeless.
Walk, get down the four stairs, walk, stop. Bend over, take the backpack off, open, take the book and the flower. Put the dull flower on the grave, touch the fading picture. Sit down, open the book, read. He would live.

Divagations...

Tickling. Tickling her hand. Tickling her neck, tickling her feet, tickling her toes… She laughs, it’s nice. Her clear childish laughter echoes in the house, rebounds on the walls, as if it would never stop. But it always fades away, at some point. When someone opens a window, the laughter flies quicker. Does the laughter continue to exist, outside ? It travels alone to parks, where it makes autumn’s yellow leaves shiver, then it slides on beautiful icy lakes, as little children during winter. Sometimes the laughter is thin, very thin, as if it would disappear. It’s not even a blurry shadow any longer, it’s vanishing through the air.
And some day it comes back, just when a baby plays with his stuffed elephant. The mother enters the room, she stands there, looking at her child. When the baby looks up and sees her, he smiles:
‘Mummy !’
‘Come on here, let’s get you ready for a little walk.’
The baby would let the laughter go away, and would crawl to her mother.
Then, during the walk, he would sing as babies always do. He doesn’t know how sad things can be, sometimes. His mother knows. Coming back from the walk, she sees her reflection in the big mirror, and she says outloud :
‘Things are wrong and not going any better.’
She tells it to herself. She’s not happy. She tried to be, but didn’t succeed. Sometimes she lies down on her bed and she forgets everything : him, the baby, the past and present. She lets her mind float above herself, and then she feels okay. But he comes back and it’s over, she’s the same again, sad and dull, sad and alone. He keeps screaming at her.
Some day she’ll decide to change, once for all. She’ll take her things, she’ll pack them, and she’ll go away, yes, she’ll leave this muddy place, she’ll let him burn himself up into alcohol and drugs. She’ll take the baby and she’ll go. She’ll refuse to sink into abysses of despair and low self-esteem, and she’ll change everything. She’ll find a new place to live in, she’ll find a decent job, she may even go dance rock’n’roll on Saturday evenings. She’ll be happy, full of bliss and freedom, and laughter will be back, eventually. She would have forget the Evil of her past life, the one that screamed at her, the one that beat her up. Yes, she’ll be happy for the rest of her life. Some day, when her little boy is 5 or 6 years old, she may meet some nice guy at the dancing club, who would invite her to dance, and maybe he’d kiss her softly and she’d really forget what she used to live.
She’s in the kitchen now, thinking about it. She’s still, on a chair. She thinks about times when she dreamt the life she’s living now. She succeeded, eventually. She changed everything. She is happy, now. Happy, here, in this house, with him, with her boy and their children. A little tear on her cheek. She can hear laughter, outside, in the garden. It’s a hot summer afternoon, windows are open. Laughter won’t vanish, not any more.