Rosalind Guy's Blog, page 11

The Anniversary

It’s been two years. The anniversary. The day

I discovered that blood doesn’t wash away

as easily as drawings made with crayons,

& that the left over images of chubby fingers wrapped

around waxy pencils, even if they were scented,

would never be enough to chase away

the images of dying men falling to the ground,

being felled like so many trees. The images fueled

by childish imaginations & drawn by scarlet crayons

held in small childish hands, equally indistinguishable

as the drawing your blood made on the walkway

two years ago today. When you were little, I’d spend hours trying

to decipher drawings that covered the walls before

I’d get down on my knees & wash it all away.

But I hardly bothered to search for any discernible

images in the splatters of blood that soaked the ground.

Down on bended knee, I tried to scrub the rocks clean

but nothing could make the stains vanish. You fell down,

the largest tree around & yes, when you fell, it did

make a sound. Blood gurgling in your throat drowning

any last words you might try to utter. Like a pot of water

boiling on the stove. Those aren’t coffee grounds

at the bottom of my cup, it’s mud & your blood. It’s

the leftover crumbles of unanswered questions. Did your

soul linger, looking over my shoulder as I tried to wash

your blood away? Do you come around occasionally to see

if the one who killed you ever visits the place where your

life was stolen away? Do you ever come back to celebrate

the anniversary? Will you come back today?

I will line the sidewalks with candles

knowing the light will provide a way for you to find your way

back home. I hope your soul is hovering nearby expectantly &

that you will meet me this year to celebrate our anniversary.

Two years ago today: the day your life was stolen

away from you & the day I was forced to murder my own son.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

make love

i’ve made love so

many times, i’m exhausted

yet i still find myself

waiting for the love that will

take my breath away

but leave me wanting more.

i’m still waiting for you

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

If You Love Me

“Everybody has to make choices– choices they must live with, sometimes die with.” –Colin Channer

“A soul mate is not found; a soul mate is recognized.” –Vironika Tugaleva

He said, “If you love me

you must learn to hold water

in the palm of your hands &

never let one drop fall. Become

like the river that always flows calmly

and I thought,

“What does that mean?”

And I thought of the things

I’ve seen pulled from the river:

football helmets

doll heads

tires

boots

beer bottles

mannequin legs and heads

What do they do with the torso? 

a body whose feet was

encased in concrete.

And I knew that he was saying

loving him would not be easy for me

it wouldn’t protect me

it wouldn’t comfort me

in fact, it would almost kill me

a thing that only existed to destroy me.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

The Dark Figure

“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.” –Frida Kahlo

He appeared in her dreams

a dark menace who caught up

her breaths like fluttering butterflies

in a net. She tried to pry her own

eyes open when she realized she was

dying but he blinded her & even

with her eyes wide open she failed to see

the dark figure standing right beside her.

When she woke up screaming, he fled

taking all her dreams with him &

leaving shadows of darkness behind.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

A War I Couldn’t Win

My life is a war that was never meant to be

won. A war that was over before I was even

born. Did you not know that if he couldn’t love you

he would not choose to love me? You had to know

the one who never tried to love you

couldn’t possibly love me. And you stood by,

pretended not to see as he unraveled pieces of

my life. You knew he would hurt me while you were

trying to pretend that love was the reason you chose

to put me in the line of fire with you. And do you know

there are still nights when I force myself not to fall

asleep because I’m trying to wound up the parts of me

that you let him unravel from me. Why did you

destroy parts of me that you were supposed to

protect? Is it because you knew my life would be

a war I’d never be able to win?

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

Dream in a Mirror

How much longer can I bear the weight

of missing you? How much longer can I

rely on phantom kisses to remind me

how it used to be? I carry remembrances

of times you spent holding me, babying me up.

But that all now seems like nothing more

than a dream that existed in a mirror.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

 

Six Months

 

The news they bring

is never good.

It’s why they shield

their faces.

But the eyes

never lie & I

saw in her eyes

the truth

before she could

utter it.

Six months.

The most clichéd

death sentence

that I’d never heard,

not yet,

and that’s why

a chuckle

almost escaped

my mouth. But I

waited for her

to confirm

the truth I saw

in her eyes.

Then

a litany of whys

caught up

in my throat.

Why me?

Why now?

We won’t give up

without a fight,

she said. My life

had become a

battle

to be won.

But I’d battled

for my life

before

and already knew

how this battle

would end.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

You Killed Me

Your touch

murdered something

in me. You told me

it’d be over soon.

Like Nazi murderers

who killed millions

you tricked me

into believing

my death wouldn’t

matter. If that’s

true, why do I

sit up every night

crying over the loss

of the one who died

the first time you

touched me &

the ones I’m sure

have died since then.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

Becky With the Good Hair

You would have to be hiding under a rock to not know Beyoncé just dropped a new album called Lemonade. Now everyone is trying to crack the code of “Becky with the Good Hair”…

via Translating ‘Becky with the Good Hair’ — Alexis Chateau

The Blood Speaks

Blood speaks.

We must listen.

Soil made sacred

by the souls

that now inhabit it.

The hush that

settles over us

implores us to hear.

It’s eerily quiet here

but the blood speaks.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind