Sunday, September 11, 2005

The Train to Forgiveness

We set off with a light load:
Picnic stuff, pen and paper.
The grassy hill has a worn path
as wide as one foot.
The path leads straight up
And wanders near the edge,
Where you can have
a striking view of the bay.
Little boats dock
And children play in the surf.

A short walk and we arrive,
To a flat spot with a 360 degree view.
The sun is bright.
The sky is its most blue.
And here I write about forgiveness…

The seagulls cry out.
And with the magic earpiece I hear,
“The air is free and so am I!”

Under an umbrella
I write:

The Train:
from Venice to Rome

After settling in
I find my mother
dozing quietly near the window.

I want to write in my journal.
Flipping through
I find
an old entry about Leo’s birthday.
What was Leo’s favorite candy?
So I asked her,
Do you remember?
She slowly replies
with a deep chuckle,

And that begins the unwholesome story
of my father.
I can’t get a clear view of him.
And when it is clear,
I prefer the mystery.

I would like to imagine him good and kind
But my mother knew him, very well.
He was a hurtful person.

My aunt gives me a different view,
But she was too young.

I try to keep the conversation trivial.
But the long drives to Las Vegas,
Reappear without asking.
The strip clubs
With my young mother in tow.
How awful.
How undignified.
How sad.

It breaks my heart for her.
How… Why…

She was pushed so far,
It changed her.

If she was innocent and sweet,
It made her slightly rough and callous.
And that just pisses me off.

I have tried to change the view of my dad.
But what do you do?

He was a big tipper.
He likes to show off…

While in Orvieto,
we stop at a lovely restaurant,
and order a five-course lunch.

I don’t drink by choice,
But I decide to have a glass of wine
with this fine meal.
We are in Italy after all.
My mother puts her head on the table
And sobs.
Crying out in protest.
We all stare at her,
I fear a scene.

She makes me so angry.
She is always trying to control me.

From them on I move very carefully.
It taints our trip a bit.

But after some timid conversations,
I learn.
Her fear is the afternoon alcoholic.
At 36, I have never until then
had an entire glass of wine to myself.

On the train home,
we pass amazing landscapes.
I never thought I would
Spend time with my Mom in Italy.

Unshed tears, renewed anger.
I must move forward in this life.
I cannot hang on to old pains.
I make choices everyday,
That make me a worthwhile human being.
Each day is new.

The seagulls cry out.
We walk as my thoughts
go in and out of focus.

And there…
Hidden by an ancient oak
Is the Well Of Forgiveness.
A bamboo ladle waits.
I cup my hands,
With this magic liquid
And drink.

I think…
Not by magic
Not by force,
Can forgiveness be made.
By much working of the heart.
Can the edge of hate and disappointment,

In this chosen moment,
I give away my icky heartache.
I give my pain to the open sky.
And she takes it.
Drink in lightness.
Drink in wonder.
Drink in freedom.
As the air is free,
So am I.


At 3:59 PM, Blogger Luna said...

I am sorry this post is so long. It seems in order to get the story out, it takes on it's own momentum.

I hope dear travelers, you tread lightly on the intimacies and secrets I reveal here. I know they are very personal, but I feel they are in good company.


At 10:12 PM, Blogger Heather Blakey said...

And there…
Hidden by an ancient oak
Is the Well Of Forgiveness.
A bamboo ladle waits.
I cup my hands,
With this magic liquid
And drink.

This is an utterly extraordinary stanza in a most magnificent piece. Thank you Luna. Your journey is taking you a long way down the path to healing isn't it? Amazing!

At 10:55 PM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

A beautifully balanced piece between the light and dark. You have laid it out and looked at it, and made new choices, to be free. A wonderful journey. Peace to you.

At 2:10 AM, Blogger Leonie Bryant said...

This is a very powerful piece. May you begin to experience a true freedom after drinking deeply from the Well of Forgiveness. Thanks for sharing your journey with us.

At 2:37 AM, Blogger Traveller said...

this is a lovely piece Luna, thank you for sharing it with us. I don't imagine it was easy to write and admire your courage.

At 5:18 AM, Blogger Karen said...

Just as our hearts and forgiveness unfold in their own time, so does this lovely story. I love the last part, the phrasing is gorgeous.
Drink in lightness.
Drink in wonder.
Drink in freedom.
As the air is free,
So am I.
It is tremendous work to free ourselves from our parents' past, and our own present limitations. This is the work, and you are doing it beautifully.

At 7:38 AM, Blogger Believer said...

The momentum was just right, Luna. We all have parts of our souls visible here and we all know the courage it takes and the freedom it brings. Prayers and blessings

At 10:53 AM, Blogger Luna said...

Oh dear readers! Your comments quite overwhelm me. Thank you for embracing my words and thoughts so kindly. The trip to Italy was sometimes difficult, but it has been a great source of material.

Blessings and hugs to all of you,

At 9:59 PM, Blogger Lois said...

I too Luna read your story of the present,the interim and the past as a part of one's life.A life that made you choose the how,why,where and when...
What you know by experiencing -is that you have and must continue to move on.
You want and need to be you Luna ...for it is you who are the most important person in your life....
Feel the wind on your face and as you move foward ,it is one of life's freedoms....
We all will drink with you at the Fountain Luna as many of our stories have been eased at this place......Lois
(Muse of the Sea) 13 sept

At 11:27 PM, Blogger Gail Kavanagh said...

This is an amazing piece, Luna, please don't apologise for the length. Not a word is wasted. I share many of these feelings with you and applaud your courage in expressing them so beautifgully.


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