Siren Whispers

Siren Song


1 Comment

Shadows Fall

IMG_9960

In the silence of the room
vinyl crackles
like some distant message
over a wireless radio. The piano plays
and shadows fall
upon me, the wall, the day.
Twilight beckons,
with fingers of light, its seduction of me
is complete …


Published on Medium: Assemblage by Loose Words

Find the complete version here.

:

©2021 Christine Kelly

Photograph by the author


3 Comments

Sentimental stirrings

Waylaid by sentimental stirrings,
unintentional memories
found folded in my pocket.

The faint scent of those yesterdays
clinging to the paper


Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday

Find the complete version here.

:

©2020 Christine Kelly

Photograph by the author


4 Comments

Every moment

It defies explanation or definition
yet persists — 
days when it is there, quietly
sitting in the corner
waiting to speak, 
other times

words filling me
with a rush –
images vivid in tone and texture.
What is it that calls my pen to action
my being to yearning …


Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday

Find the complete version here.

:

©  2020 Christine Kelly

All Rights Reserved.

Photograph by author


Leave a comment

Five days

IMG_3405

Five days
and you will get on a jet plane
winging your way westward.
So much,
so little
time
to have …


Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday

Find the complete version here.

:

©2019 Christine Kelly

All Rights Reserved.

Photograph by the author


3 Comments

How I Became the Heroine of My Own Peaceful “Ever After”

evan-lee-0vU-V6u2MXk-unsplash

We were never a model couple, until we divorced.

Recently I was told that my ex-husband and I were the perfect examples of how to do divorce right, as if doing it ‘right’ made it more palatable. I’m not sure divorce is ever ‘done right,’ but I admit our uncoupling turned out to be less painful, arduous, and angry than I ever believed it would be. Collaborative divorce was the gateway to this peaceful coexistence.

From day one, the tenure and tenor of our marriage were acrimonious. I had contemplated divorce on several occasions, but never felt it would be the final resolution.

I entered marriage with the highest of hopes after a long-distance courtship that was romantic and replete with long letters and phone calls. Despite its romantic beginnings, my marriage was a difficult one. I was hopeful and maybe little naïve, but I never expected it to be a bed of roses — and it wasn’t, except for the thorns …

 


Published on Medium: Recovering After a Divorce

Find the complete version here.

:

©Christine Kelly 2020

Photo by Evan Lee on Unsplash


2 Comments

Un coeur un hiver

C5351212-2997-49CB-A6AD-C5487FDD2262

We leave our hearts in the snow,
no last goodbyes left
to melt the ice clinging to the edges.
I wonder if is it possible to lose it all —
heart, mind, soul,
in a single breath —
the one you took with that kiss 

 


Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday

Find the complete version here.

:

©Christine Kelly 2020

Photograph: my own

 


18 Comments

Photographs

img_2367

Photographs tell stories, at least to me they do. They have always been the way I’ve captured memories to revisit at a later time, to share with those who’ve been absent. They have told the stories of what I have loved and who I have loved.

I’ve been photographing everything around me from a young age. When I had children, this increased exponentially, suddenly the camera was always in use as I captured every moment, every first.

But what do you do when you must put those photographs away, pretend like they don’t exist? How do you bury reminders of a past, of memories that are still ripe and sweet, years later? How do you do this when keeping them out are constant reminders to someone of a past they want to forget? Of a person they no longer are, outwardly? How do you expunge those years, and should you?

Some things can’t be forgotten.

I wrestle with this. On the one hand I want to be sensitive, these photographs remind them of who they no longer are, but on the other hand these same photographs remind me of a happier time, when the future was bright and hopeful. They are not only a tangible reminder of the past but they are a part of me. I am the photographer. I am the mother. In this case, I am the creator of both art and life.

I’ve tried my best as a mother: to provide understanding and support, to teach them the skills necessary to navigate life, and to be more resilient, but above all I have tried to show them how loved they are. Unconditionally.

Sometimes this falls short, no matter my motivation, no matter my actions.

As a parent you put your child’s needs ahead of your own, but sometimes your needs and theirs are at war. As it is for me now. I have robust memories, with many of them being photographic, and now I must put those away and with them a part of myself. At times it feels like one more piece of me is being buried and I cannot breathe. I am banging my fists against the lid but no one hears my cries.

The photographs are the latest in a line of things that I have had to turn my back on. I am not prone to pity parties but I grieve, oh do I grieve.

Some might think this is selfish, to feel this way about photographs, but it is really about more than captured images. It’s about forgetting 15 years of a life. It’s about surreptitiously reliving them. It is what I struggle with. It’s not that I am not thankful for what I have, but it is a loss and as such it behaves like the tides, ebbing and flowing, but never ceasing.

The changes wrought are incalculable. I grieve for the past and for the future. There will be things I will never experience and things I experience but in a way that is more challenging and isolating than I ever anticipated. This truly is a matter of only understanding if you walk in my shoes.

But these are small things and, in some cases, future things.

We adjust as we go along. Tentative steps taken, often with a heart that aches with loss but also one that feels a modicum of joy as things align. It is the past that is rearing its ugly head. As we go forward into this new life I am no longer allowed to revel in those memories. I must be secretive about the happiness I felt because it makes someone I love uncomfortable.

It’s the latest of cuts, and probably the deepest, and I feel as though I am bleeding out. How much can I lose and do I have the right to feel this grief when it’s not my life that will be challenging?

I don’t know the answer to that. I’m just searching for something to staunch the flow of blood.

:

Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Tumblr, source unknown


12 Comments

That first face

img_7966

She was the first face I saw.

I fell in love

But didn’t know it.

Those hazel eyes gazing down at me

Soothing my abrupt entrance

Into a much colder world

Than the one I had existed in

For months.

I quickly came to realize

That she was my world.

Her beloved countenance

Changing over the years

But always

Full of love

Full of pride.

She has been

My teacher

My cheerleader

My taskmaster

My confidante.

Providing an example

Of what to strive for

Being supportive of the choices I made

Even ones that she knew would hurt me

Assuring me

That kindness doesn’t make one weak

And always making it clear

That the world was my oyster

That I alone could make my world

What I wished it to be.

I have been so lucky

To have had such a wonderful person

To guide my days

To know unconditional love and acceptance.

Recently I was reminded of a song

That was always hers and mine.

My mother

My friend.

You and me against the world.

A mother’s love

A sacred thing.

:

*I’ve posted this multiple times but on this day, the birthday of the most amazing and loving person that I know, I felt it fitting. Happy 90th birthday Mom.

Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photo taken from Pinterest, unsourced


4 Comments

Museum of my heart

img_1974

The museum of my heart is full of rooms

that describe me

but do not define me.

Walls painted with joy and pain.

Hung with the memories

of family and friends and lovers.

Floors set with mistakes and successes

Ceilings lit with laughter and love.

This museum of my heart is not a place of glass cases,

where you look but do not touch.

It is a place of discovery,

where every corner is interactive

and rooms are added

continuously.

A growing archive

to how deeply I live

and to how profoundly I love.

:

Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced


4 Comments

Blood and beauty

Blood and beauty

and how we fall

with the jagged edges of life

softened with love

or meticulously opening

a vein

leaving us ashen

with blood loss

:

Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced.