Posts Tagged ‘Heritage’

Cyclical

Written by Orchid on August 30th, 2013. Posted in Blog

We stood barefoot on his headstone, looking into each others eyes as the priest spoke. We were wed upon my father’s grave.  Some might consider such behavior to be excessively macabre.  Unfortunately for those individuals I have never cared much for the opinions of others.  Frost covered blades of grass clicked against one another in approval.  The fog had yet to lift, making it seem as though we were somewhere between the planes of existence.  The black lace of my dress rustled gently with the rise and fall of my breasts.  Our feet were absolutely numb against the hard finality of the marble but it was of little consequence considering the circumstances.

Almost as if the priest understood our intentions, he had not asked where our witness was.  He knew, as did we, my father would be present.  I felt him there beside me, a faint hint of warmth against my left arm.  The urge to turn and look over my shoulder was quite nearly impossible to fight against.  I could picture his smile, perhaps even a few tears making their way down the soft lines in his cheeks before burrowing into his beard.  But I knew if I tried to look he would not be visible.

Upon the closing of our private ceremony, my love and I embraced with a modest passion as the priest made his way back up the hill and out of sight.  When our lips parted once again I saw a large stag just beyond the tree line.  He craned his neck ever so slightly to one side and stared directly back into my eyes.  Salty tears escaped furiously and silently over the line of my lashes as I watched the stag slowly turn and disappear into the woods.

“Goodbye” I whispered.  “I love you.”

Family Ties

Written by Orchid on August 19th, 2013. Posted in Blog

I envy those with deep family roots and traditions. Those with a history and a legacy of heritage. Such Feelings churn within my restless heart.

My family has been broken into so many pieces. Like a priceless vase that has been chipped away at bit by bit. As solitary pieces we are nothing. Just shards of decorative porcelain that were once a part of something greater. My edges are worn smooth with years of solitude and grief. I miss my father. And my grandfathers. Their memories have been scattered to the merciless winds of time. No first hand account of what they lived through has ever been recorded and now must be passed down. But not one will step forward to do so. They all live their lives in selfishness and secrecy. Each out to further their own agendas with little regard for those with whom they share a sanguine bond. Nobody calls, nobody writes and everyone blames someone other than themselves for loosing touch.

I like to think that if nothing else I have enough scraps of my history to cling to, so as to prevent complete and crushing anguish from running my life into the ground. And cling to them I will, for dear life. For each one sparks a memory and that is all I have left.

I must forge ahead in this life alone and make my own way. At least my shard of porcelain, with its smooth edges and faded flowers, is beautiful.

(This blog originally posted on my old account March 2013)

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