Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Changed

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It has been seventeen weeks, five days and one hour since you told me. Since my world shifted on its axis. Since our lives were changed, permanently. 

But who’s counting?

I am asked by family and friends how I am dealing with it. If I have gotten used to it, accepted it. There is never just one answer. It is too complex for that. Indeed, it is too complex for words on most days. 

I tell them that I accepted it the moment that I was told.  And I did.  How could I not?  There was never ever a question that I wouldn’t.  But my heart grieved.  For what was lost.  For what would be irrevocably changed.  But most of all, for the burden that was carried, silently and alone, for too long.  My head accepted it.  I was rational and logical.  But the heart does not know nor does it understand those words.  And though there is unconditional love and acceptance, there is more than one layer to ‘getting used’ to something.  The head always wraps itself around a problem, a situation, a change, more readily than does a heart. 

Hearts have a long memory.

So my answer to that well meaning and concerned question was ‘yes, I’ve gotten used to it’ and ‘no, you never get used to it’.  And both answers are true.  Perhaps one day I can say that I am well and truly used to it, but I don’t know that that is possible.  There are too many memories, 15 years worth, to believe that there will never be a day that I am not jolted back in time or that my heart won’t feel a twinge at what will never be. 

But for now I just accept each day as a gift.  One more day that, if things had been different, I might not have had.  And I know how lucky I am.

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*Written a year ago to the day. Still relevant as my new normal continues to take shape. As the tides rise and the sands shift, every day there is learning and acceptance and gratitude. But even on my best days there is still grief for what has been lost and an exhaustion with a climb that will never plateau.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208

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Empty forests

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The empty forests of my mind

Are filled with trees that touch the sky

With dappled shade and secrets

And beginnings and ends

Of boughs and branches

Filled with thoughts and plans

Ones that I’ve had

And ones that are in bloom

But there are others

Those that are in their infancy

Newly seeded

Awaiting optimum conditions

And time

For growth

The sun, the rain, the air, the soil

Working together

Bringing to fruition

This vivid and verdant path

That I am meant to walk upon

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©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208


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Cemetery secrets

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Cemetery secrets

Spread from head to toe

As deathlike quiet descends

Upon the landscape of my corporeal being

From thoughts that linger like an opaque mist

Clouding judgement

Clarity becoming a haze that we cannot see through

To ribs caging a heart grown quiet

Stilled and dormant

Shackled without cause

Seeking answers to questions that will never be answered

Every twilight she locks them away.

The gates closed

As she waits

for the dawn

And release

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208; Glendalough, Ireland

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Not a girl of summer

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I am not a girl of Summer

though the sea runs through my veins

and I would happily swim from dawn to dusk.

I am not a Coppertone baby with flowing yellow hair

golden strands gleaming in the sun

a perfection of tan skin and white smiles.

I am a girl of Autumn, of Winter

burnished leaves and snowy landscapes 

my favourite haunts

books and fires and sweaters and long walks 

my pleasures.

I am the pale girl

with hair the brown of a sable coat

soft and rich and full of depth.

But it is when its copper threads catch the sun

unexpectedly 

that you get a hint of 

the fiery and passionate nature

oft hidden 

revealed to very few

known only to one

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208

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Scent of forever

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Ireland, June 2016

Though I am captivated by it’s rolling hills

verdant knolls in varied shades of luxuriant green

where there is history under every footfall

it is the sound of the ocean’s crash beyond me

and the scent of forever on the wind

that enthrals me

that rejuvenates my soul

and I exhale with longing

to always be this close

to my beloved sea.

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*The longing for the sea is a constant, never ebbing.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photographs taken by SirenSong1208


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Words become gravestones

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Words become gravestones

To memories

A cemetery never visited

The flowers wilted upon the grave

Of forgotten love

Silence

A grey mist that saturates

Emotions sealed up

In a casket

Lined with what could have been’s

As muffled lamentations

Fill the air

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©SirenSong1208 – 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208


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She is red lace

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She is all curves and soft skin.

A dark tempest of hair

and eyes the color of a stormy sea.

She is red lace

against pale skin,

chaste yet wanton.

The juxtaposition

of innocence and sin.

Good girl and bad girl.

A contrast that

bewitches him

beguiles him

and entices him

to unravel the enigma

that is her.

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*Not a new post but something reminded me of it so here it is again.

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken by sirensong1208