El Condor Pasa

I will never find release from my demons, my newest crane tells me.
I must simply gain control.

Don't take the words of others and infuse them with wafting plumes of meaning, till the room is full of smoke from a fire that never was.

The little, glossy, menu-card flyer crane is as wise as it is new to this realm of crane shaped wishes. He looks a little cocky with the a little 'chick' from 'chicken coleslaw sandwich' branded on his wing. He's like a wise John Travolta (from Grease) crane who wants me to know to remind me that I am a creature who conjures up my own crosses. Then, when it comes to carrying this multitude of very small, insignificant but very heavy crosses around, I end up whacking the people I love the most in various tender places.

*sigh*

Don't take an innocent string of sentiments and embellish them with lace and lilies and make them into a crown of torture for yourself. Don't believe that the lace and lilies belong to anyone but you. Especially if you have been categorically told so over and over and over again.

If you must lift the veil that shrouds events you have no idea about, then do that around someone who was there. Do that aloud and not in your head where every woman turns into a flaming succubus and all you can do is writhe in the pain of never knowing and never being sure.

For once stop believing that every woman is a flaming succubus.
They are not all sirens trying to lure sailors to their doom. The Universe shall not plot against you if you don't believe it to be plotting every waking moment, in your head.

Calm down, says my little crane of infinite wisdom.
Don't be so blinded by the fact that you feel like a stranger. Wait till you are told that you are one before you begin to sob yourself into oblivion about it. Don't imagine yourself into a life of misery, feel miserable and then wait for someone to rescue you without you being able to tell them what you need rescuing from. Be sane.

But I know, you won't. And I know you will be the same, wretched, little mess the next time. And while you have been sufficiently frightened this time, you will not let that fear do good things for you.

The little crane knew me so well.
Within minutes it had predicted the grand phoenix cycle of self destruction for me. Just like, within days and minutes I tread the path to alienating the people I love. Just like I put I have decisively put my whole life's happiness in jeopardy just because I'm a stupid, little monkey who can learn nothing more than the old cymbal-clanking monkey business with any amount of dexterity.

Amen.

Me and You

I need to apologise to You.
This year and like every year before it, I've run you down.

I'm sorry for always thinking you can't achieve something. I'm sorry for the preamble of 'I'm sure I won't be able to.' I'm sorry I've put you in a box to which I seem to have misplaced the key. I'm not going to give up with 'I can't find it.'

I'm sorry I underestimated how attractive you are, in some way or another. I'm sorry I've been surprised at compliments when clearly, you deserve them. I've laughed instead of smiling; I've doubled over, guffawing instead of bowing gracefully.  I'm sorry I stood down in the face of a challenge that you were rearing to meet.

I apologise for the number of times I've let your dazzling potential remain just that- potential- because I didn't supplement it with enough preparation. I'm sorry I've eaten up your mindspace with needless thoughts. I've wasted your bandwidth with some very pointless wondering.

I wish you'd forgive me for beating you up even when it's not your fault. I hope you'll forgive me for when I have you bear the brunt of my work. You never complain when I do things that aren't mine to do. I hope you'll forgive me for the strain and the aching that was not yours to nurse.

I know that while you rejoice in the adrenaline of hard work, you wish that I'd let certain things go. I know you wish that I wasn't such a tyrant because I'm constantly giving you dark circles and gaunt cheeks. I wish you'd forgive me for how much I overdraw your account of tears and how little I spend your smiles.

In my heart I wish that you'd believe that I'm truly sorry.
But I see your wry smile at my naive assumption that I'm on the path to changing all of that. I see you shrug as you anticipate another year, yet another quadrennium of promises to be a better me for you. But believe you me, this year and here on end, you have an ally and an anchor like you've never had before.

I resolve nothing for another passing "new" year.
But I want you to know, I know.

Love and sincerity,
Me.

My Crane Wife

So when my crane wife flew away to warmer climes, I began to fear for the strength of our bond.

Yes, it was a terribly stupid thing for me to think that there was anyone to replace me. But I thought so, nonetheless.

Today, my crane wife flew back to me. I don't think I can count the span of how long she has been away in months or minutes, seconds or semesters. I think that the only way we can count how long she has been away for is by the tears she saw when she returned.

Wrapped up in the coil of her long, flowing ideas, she returned to me, just the same as when she left. It was like there was never a breath that came between us. She still fit the same; one curve still felt moulded into the other and each hug felt a like a dress that never needed altering. It felt like not a day had passed since the last bone crunching hug and not a week had gone by since I heard her familiar tones-- familiar words rendered in familiar ways.

Her hands are the same little carriers of warmth and solidarity and to see her form behind the familiar tablescape of coffee glass, sugar bowl and grimy glasses of water was too much for my fox-trotting heart to bear. There she was: resplendent with the glow of four rich months of academic skinny dipping. She was the same. She is the same.

And she still loves me.
And she loves me.
And she always will love me.

The curve of her presumption that we will be the same, no matter what was as shocking as a grand jete and as beautiful. Her nest has grown and accommodates considerably more people but I still find myself in the inner sanctum, whenever I take the time-- or clear the jealousy long enough to look around.

My crane wife.
As wide as your wingspan may be, I love how you make the most comfortable little ring around me.