I have thought of writing letters. Of bleeding my essence through my pen. Of free form that could entrance. Like a girl to her forbidden lover. But what could I say? Could I write words that I don’t understand to a lover who exists only in the ether? Could I experience emotion that feels unfamiliar for a person that should be familiar? I couldn’t. So, I won’t.
What I’ll do, instead, is write from memory. My soul denies me what my mind serves only with zeal. So I will retreat to its comfort. To the comfort of memory and from here; from these fertile grounds shall I conceive my tale. A tale only for you. Only for your wanting eyes. So please, please want this tale. I have to warn you, though, that while my soul will not give wholly of itself, it will attempt to dance with my mind. So my memories might be laced with quasi ribbons of novelty. I swear to you, I have no deficit of attention. It’s just that my soul, she loves to dance. She has but one partner; my mind.
So, yes! I will write to you a story. A love story of lovers fickle. Not one of me. No! The fickleness of love has me well pickled in its tang. It is the story of soul and mind. I have not met a pair so queer. None like the other. Yet they couldn’t be more attached at my hip.
See soul and mind couldn’t see the world more differently. Their eyes are, quite literally, worlds apart. Problem is, they can’t let me go on with this story. They insist on having the life of their love remain theirs. So, I am terribly sorry but this foetus must be aborted. I promise though, to come to you again soon with craftily spun non-letters of non-tales. I promise you mountains on plateaus of quasis and pseudos. I promise you infinite non-promises of non-mountains on non-plateaus of whole pseudos and half quasis.
And now that my essence has almost bled through my pen, I expect you to SMH as I leave you with these thoughts of non-thoughts.
Taidi is an ardent blogger who loves all things poetry. for more of her poems, visit her site or like her facebook page, Just Taidi