6 February 2013
And I looked into her sleeping face.
Such beauty is unaccountable. Such elegance within her features, the delicate bow of her lips and the rounded curve of her closed eyes, the dark lashes resting on the porcelain cheeks, giving frame to a slightly pointed nose. There was almost a smile in the completion, a peace that doesn't come with being awake, with being mortal. A type of stillness that comes with only passing, a resting that we humans, with the tortures we bear, cannot be achieved, a silence that cannot be known by even the rustling of each life enhancing breath. But her breath was silent.
I remember being a boy, climbing trees and running through the sun kissed golden fields before swinging off the hanging vines over the stream from tree branches reaching out like some crooked arms onto the other side, onto our secret eutopia. I remember looking into those huge brown eyes, eyes of naivity that did not know anything but somehow understood everything, how her smile would light up the whole of her face and how, in an instant, the spirits of the wind would blow the petals and dead leaves around us in some whirlpool fantasy, whipping her long dark hair in the fray around her face.
Those were the days.
When I told her I loved her, when we were sixteen I promised I'd never leave her. She promised she would never leave me. Ever.
Ever.
She married me in autumn a year before she got ill. The colour was drained from her face, the life left her eyes and soon she was simply a mildly animated corpse, encased in some wicked torment that the world planned for her. A girl who did no wrong, who never hurt a soul, not even of a bee or bird or insect. A girl that still possessed her innocence when she lay there and the pleading in her eyes could only beg me for a quick escape.
"One for sorrow, two for joy" she smiled weakly some time ago.
"Three for a girl, for four a boy" I smiled as a tear rolled down my left cheek.
"Wherever you do not go, Sorrow will follow" I told her.
"No, it shall be Joy" she laughed "for the magpie never travels alone and I will always be with you somehow".
"And the crow?" I asked.
"The crow is only death" she replied "we all meet one sooner or later".
Opuss № I