Shadows on bedroom walls
waiting for an odyssey.
Nobody knows, the autumn is silent, that I whispered to the shadows on these walls, Goodbye, my almost lover, Goodbye my love, I’ll be seeing you. and where was I going, I do not know, but they bid farewell like they knew I was going somewhere, so somewhere I must have been going. Farewell, my almost love. Farewell, I’ll be seeing you. I’ll be seeing you from the summer into the autumn, and the autumn is silent, and it forms around me in gentle breaths and tender movements that echo in the silence of the autumn. Nobody knows, but then perhaps everybody knows. These people around me. Those who walked up the hill, past me sat at the table and single chair. Do they know I whispered to the shadows on my bedroom walls, Goodbye, my love, Goodbye my almost love. with no idea where I was going. No. Nobody knows. But perhaps everybody knows and this is why the lady on the bus smiled at me and why the lady in bookshop was so kind, and maybe everybody knows and are living around me pretending not to know those shadows on my bedroom walls whispered back to me, farewell, I’ll be seeing you.
One evening, I whispered to these bedroom walls, Goodbye my almost lover, Goodbye my love, without thought of where I was going, and maybe that is my destiny, my fate, did my palms laugh at a prophecy already foretold, my walls, bid me farewell, and at the same time, they knew I would return. These walls know I’ll be here tomorrow. These walls who know I’ll be here tomorrow, bid me goodbye knowing it was not too late for me to cry. It was not too late for me to cry. I never once asked the Gods for anything. I said farewell. I even waved, like the time once waving to my mother at the school gates, that girl has not left me. From the school playground I could see my grandmothers kitchen window and each day would look for her face above the lace curtain, watching for me, and then the gentle frame of her hand appearing to wave at me, and I knew to wave back, and I do not remember when I learned to wave, perhaps it was one of my first movements, a lift of my hand, hello, goodbye, where are you going, where am I staying? I do not remember when I learned to wave, but I have done it a thousand times since, and hundreds of them within the school playground, looking for my grandmother at her kitchen window, over the lace, and now another wave is added to the list, to these bedroom walls, Goodbye my almost lover, Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, I’ll be seeing you. Farewell. Come back soon. I don’t know where i’m going. Where are you going? I don’t know. An Odyssey. I’ll be seeing you. Nobody knows.
Everybody knows. Nobody knows. That is the beauty of it. Nobody knows and everybody might know, and should I care that everyone knows that I bid my bedroom walls Goodbye, Farewell, my love, only to return. These walls know I’ll be here tomorrow, and these walls, my walls, said nothing, and greeted me with fever. Where have you been? Where did you go, and I told them, I’ll tell you about it later, when the sun has set and rose, when the sky has been set on fire and watered, when the moon has completed another cycle, and I have counted every bird I have ever seen and spent a cloudy night seeing how many stars I can count. After that. I will tell you. Goodbye. Farewell. I’ll be seeing you.
Your words used to settle over me A secret Gentle shy Tender signs You wanted to say them That’s why you parted your lips We spoke in gestures Not words My skin remembers I haven’t changed the calendar Nor the clock it sits still broken That means more to you The calendar tells what has passed The clock time which hasn’t
I have control over my circumstances. I have control and isn’t that frightening. Isn’t that what we all want? Control. And then when we have it, it has always been our own, we do not realise for our past years while trying to find meaning, running with your eyes closed around the sharp corner of your grandmothers home, no one told you to run with your eyes shut, but you wanted to see how far you could get, that no one but yourself told you to close your eyes and run to see how far you could get, and you come to a sudden stop and your eyes open to the frightening realisation you have control over your own life.
Beatrice.
cover image: my own photo posted to pinterest.