Once upon a time...

"Excuse me, miss, but are you Arabic?"

Startled by the approach of a stranger in the cereal and granola aisle of my local mass-market retail store (can you guess which one?), I quickly turned to see the person who was addressing me. The middle-aged foreign man standing before me appeared gentle and friendly. He was dressed in a white cotton shirt, and pale beige pants which emphasized his dark skin. His hair was neatly trimmed, mostly black, but showing some gray along his temples.

Smiling, I replied, "No, I'm not Arabic." I wondered why he would have thought I could possibly be Arabic, as I don't believe I have the physical characteristics of a typical Arabic person. Blue eyes, curly auburn hair, and a complexion as white as a daisy petal is certainly not common amongst Arabic people. Perhaps not impossible, but definitely improbable.

Still, the man persisted in his odd questions. "You cannot be from here? You do not dress as they do here....you are not wearing trousers. No, you wear the long and flowing skirt of a princess! In my country, you would be a princess."

Feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to color my cheeks, I politely thanked him for his compliments and turned to select my box of granola from the shelf. "Please. Allow me," he grasped the coveted package from up above and placed it into my hands.

"Thank you," said I, and again I made my attempt at leaving. I could hear the foreign man's footsteps close behind me. "Miss, may I ask if you are married? Have you any children?", he continued after me.

"Yes, yes I am married," I spoke the half-truth, thinking to myself that my divorce is nearly final. "And yes, I do have a child."

"Ah, that is too bad. You see, I was hoping to invite you to a nice meal. Please, say to your husband that he must always treat you as a princess!" he smiled and bowed, revealing the gleam of his very white teeth.

His comments struck me as quite strange, and I laughed. What if my husband had treated me like a princess? Would that have changed anything? No, I do not need nor wish to be treated as a princess. All I need is to be loved and appreciated for who I am, not for someone or something I am not.

if on a winter's night...

On nights like this, I miss you the most.

The black sky is lit only by the crescent moon, a final sliver before becoming new again.

I long to be with you, our bodies entwined beneath a cloud of covers, eyes flash in a flurry of passion.

The window by the bed is frosted from our exhalations.

Wilted with exhaustion, we lie spent side-by-side.

Our fingers are still tangled together, the light of our love casts its glow around the room.

Your whispered words echo in my mind....

spiral

mind deranged, life rearranged

coupled with the complex cluster

only now, lacking luster

between the shadows and the light

dark as the sky on a moonless night

downward spin, search for you again

fast-forward to yesterday

life appears so simple, yet it's complicated.

some lives become so faded

and other lives grow dim, dark as the eyes of the dead.

how do we arrive at this place

looking like a soul without a face?

only one

hesperides guarding golden fruits

dragon sleeping at the roots

mystical magical majestic tree

leaves and limbs loom over me

faded fate

poisoned and pale

fragile and frail

forgotten fish

once young, now so old

swirling in a fractured bowl

water of life drains away

pools below in clouds of gray

snowblind

powdered pearls fall from the heavens

flakes of snow like feathers on the wind

fleeting beauty - so delicate and temporary

gone in the blink of an eye

like life itself

downfall

night is folding in, holding me in

dark embrace, soul with no face

blackness sinking, emptiness shrinking

nameless void, voices devoid

time waits for none, time i cannot shun

thoughts of hope, slipping down the slope

don't look back, won't go back

only down ever still, wander on, always will....

heartfelt

skeleton key swings from a thread in my hand.
rain is drenching through and the sun is missing again.

december day is bleak, winter wind wailing at the door.
hologram heart is full of holes, a stone washed upon the shore.

looking through the holes, what do you see?
nothing whole, a shell which once was me.

nothing left, a shadow broken there.
a light across the floor, dust floating through the air.