I think lately about those moments in life, the heavy ones that seem to sink into our depths and make ripples in the soul. I think of large tectonic plates that seem, in their massive and solemn way, to be inert beneath the earth, while they slowly shift and slide. I think about them floating there on the liquid mantel of magma, heaving ever so slightly, and every now and then, they come together in a passionate kiss. I imagine the shaking of the earth in response to this union, the shuddering mountains, the heaving of oceans, the wild erratic dance of an evergreen forest, and there those great forces make themselves known, the ones you believed tranquil beneath your feet now throwing you ass over tea kettle into the pavement.
Yes, there are many moments such as these scattered throughout a lifetime, the “what ifs” the chance meeting, perhaps a “no” when there may have been a “yes”, and all the sudden your world is trembling. Brought to your knees by an accumulation of happenstance and being in just the right place at precisely the wrong time.
All that time believing in the solid footing on the ground beneath you, having built a firm foundation on assumptions of safety, having completely forgotten about those churning, unfathomable forces beneath you which we tritely call Fate.
One after the other days fall, like autumn leaves, and you never notice the color has gone from the world until all around you is withered and brown. Yet spring will come in the same stealthy and unexpected fashion, and one day you awake to find the world is singing with life, and it calls to the death inside you.
Sometimes memories like echoes come to me, of roads I did not tread, of things I had not the courage to write, of words spoken on the winds of change. Some of these memories sneak onto my pages despite my careful prose, like a small child seeking comfort in the warm bed of Mother. Yes, lying there on the white sheets, coveting blue lines, scribbling themselves in the margins of my heart, those ghosts of the poetry that never was, for some things have a voice only in the silence.