Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Day Forty-Two



Today I found a lake. Today I found a lake all by myself. Today I found a place to be quiet. The only thing frustrating me is that I cannot find the perfect pen. And so I will keep switching. Today I found a place underneath a tree on a big rock, to hear the water lap – trying to wash up. Trying to touch me. Trying to rinse my mind clean of the lies.

Just like me, this body is not quite sure how they got in there, but wants them out. Out, out, out – liquid seeping out and the waves crashing in, the pores of my skin soaking up the truth. Moments ago I saw a bottle and prayed it had a message. It is now sunken treasure, the message is within me. We are both screaming, she and I. This lake dressed in transparency, yet filled with vile green duck poo, boat fumes, and forgetfulness.
At one time I hated her, this girl that floats to the surface at times. My Ophelia. I once sat at a different lake. I wanted to drown – her. This lake is here, that was then, there. Ducks float by two white, two black and somehow one white with orange, one white with gray. One of them has taken strength and swallowed it down with weakness, feathering out the mixture and quacking, quacking, quacking.
I can imitate a duck call fairly well, but I am not accepting of imitation.
I thought strength was leaving her behind. Years and years, my Ophelia has been drowning. Deeper she sinks to find the message. This week she has surfaced, surfaced, crashed and cried through me. She wants me to take the bottle, the words. And I say, No. I say, I hate. I say, You are not worthy to hand me such things. And so I have come to this lake, this river, this water to lift her out.
I don't know where I am but we are here together. I cannot let her drown completely. We must let our feathers spread out together. She is not darkness and I am not her light. I will kiss her lips, breathe into her lungs, grasp onto her hands. And she will forgive as if I never left her. We are whole. My strength, this fragrance, welcoming back my Ophelia.
Today I found a lake. Today I found myself. Today I followed brown signs alone and I am leaving with her. The confidence and the tears – linked by the lapping, the rocks and the roots, surrounded by broken branches. I could not have been whole without her. She will walk softly and I will float on the transparent and we will save the drowning only for days when we need refreshment.
She isn't a mirror. She isn't my undoing. As one we are fit snuggly, uniquely, bravely, we balance, barely but beautifully, and I will not leave her. She is my and I am her – healing.
Today I am thankful for this lake and for my dear, Ophelia.

– amanda gayle oliver

August 4th, 2010

Thank you Papa. Thank you for knowing just what I needed.

Old Hickory Lake?

Close to Andy Jackson's House

Somewhere near Nashville, TN




1 comments:

Unknown said...

I'm glad you posted this. I enjoyed you reading it to me. You craft beautiful images with your words..... I think you call that a word painter.

Post a Comment