lei fraser

here the turn goes with the notes floating
from finger tips beyond
eyes yield little in the faded light of evening
cords that drag in the water
turning in the current
where is the truth the lie
there is no mirror no matter how we try
and yet what is clear
life ends, there is suffering
and it is missed completely
by those still looking
for the mirror as proof
the cords drag more deeply
carrying debris
while the blood of thousands
fills the soil
precious lost again and again
it isn’t enough that it spills
not for those who want
justice .. justice not for the fallen
never for them
the river rolls its insides
over and over
polishing stones, and clearing
clearing with no judgement
the leaf is here
and then I lose sight of it
as it flows around the bend
even standing still along the shore
while the water’s edge
moves and changes
without intent
cords and all
not even a simple witness
any longer to the arrogance of
shadows and veils
I have to sit and rest here
while the music flows along
beyond me with the water
to the sea
to the sea
and beyond……..
it is the sound of this water
rushing by me
that somehow calms inspite
of the constant clamour
the arrogance of activism and
ignorance equals the
arrogance of fear
and the death consequent
considered equal to the death
of innocent
flow
when life is only measured
in scales tipped with anger
fire and fear
the outrage is inaction
the outrage is ignorance
the outrage is reaction
oh
it is easy to sit
behind the lines
not even near the edge
and say this and that is not
to those who say that is not
and this is
while the children and their mothers
die and weep
weep and die
while the argument
accelerates
life dwindles
and the river swells
and swells
and swells
this flow
turning and rolling
boulders to pebbles
to tiny grains of sand
that bejewell
the ocean’s garments
and cools even the
most raging fires
cools
like a soothing hand
to a fevered brow
here though while the last notes
fade like an old photograph
left in the corner of a bookcase
images as powerful as punch
fade leaving the web
of entanglement
bruised battered
unnecessarily
the flow unending
and the rest
no rest insight
~

la tyson
09.01.07

To life,
the bell marks out
the length of days,
the longer breath of shadows
that fall over footsteps and heels
impressions in the soft dirt path
sun rises and sets
moon rises and sets
sometimes, sometimes
change comes
between the two

To life,
the liquid chrysalis
over time changes only in the pause
between each moment
moving through moving on
moving forward

To life
this life
this everything

madness unwinds itself
sprayed along the walkways
and through half-opened windows
along busy streets
around corners

both sides of the mirror waiting
the glass clouded and uncertain
unpolished and dirty

To life, when the distance
gapes in wide-mouth fear
direct line to the heart
electric pulse a warning –
the bell counts down days
minutes, seconds
beat by beat
until here is blurred again
the chrysalis hardens
waiting love, waiting

To life, when the violence of existing
extends beyond harsh words, indifference,
intolerance, misunderstanding…
reaching to the center where the soul
where love lives

To life – when the fresh spring breeze
across the fields, the first buds in the trees
the sun warm against the skin are not
enough to chase away the dark stench of fear
here I pray for the impossible – that tomorrow
will bring light to the hopeless corners
understanding to banish fear
and love that heals like clear water falling
over hands from a mountain stream
what cannot be seen, or held or heard

To life, my love, to life.

~

January 5, 2007
Leigh-Anne Tyson

I

Mermaid Close, October 2006

These are conversations I have had in the deep hours of night, or in the stillness of early morning; conversations with silence while I grappled with myself, my life, with everything or found myself alone. Mostly I am talking to myself, however, on rare occasions, or perhaps not so rare, I am talking to you.

It may well be that you will never have the chance to read any of these conversations, but in spite of that, here I am… writing again. The conversations aren’t new – I have been a part of them a million times, the gentle or raging give and take of idea and soul. This will be new for you – like discovering a secret door that leads to an inner world. I apologize in advance for disappointing.

Often, I find myself sitting and thinking of you – and all of the many things that I would like to tell you. In some ways, I think that you hear those things, as I think of them, the intent to share not bound by time or space. It is like casting a wide net, when I am falling asleep, or sitting quietly… a wide net of thoughts that I cast out, as though I am fishing, but not wanting to capture anything; instead of capturing, only to draw everyone closer, everything closer so that I can whisper to them that I love them – much the same way that I do when I talk with you. I imagine that each knot on the net is a person that I care for, that I love, each connected to the next knot, and intimately required for the overall function of the net. I stand on my imaginary boat – the colour varies, sometimes red and white, sometimes blue like the ocean and sky… she has no name, not yet. I stand on the boat and take the net into my arms like an embrace before tossing it out as far as I can. In my minds eye, the moon sparkles, and reflects the words that I have written on the rope that joins the knots. It is almost as if those knots then turn into shining points, like stars, when they touch the water – and to each one I sent my thoughts and prayers – that they may each find the strength to face whatever challenges they are facing now, that if they are angry or suffering emotionally that their hearts be softened by love and understanding, so that the pain will ease, and that they will experience beauty and joy and love each day – and to you, silence, not because you do not deserve the same – I simply know it is enough to feel it for you, than to express it in words.

These conversations at times will be like songs – a poem that sings itself – and I just record the song as it drifts past my ears. Most of all, these conversations are for you – to you, to reassure you that you are not alone. How many there will be, I cannot predict – perhaps only a few that will need to be written, a handful of songs and poetry, or maybe more – just wait and see…

~

In silence – everything is heard.

Through the window, I can see the mist starting to rise up off of the lake. The morning sun is growing brighter against the trees. The reds and golds are standing out more now against the fading  blue-grey backdrop. The mist brought an even deeper silence today to an already tranquil place. Not even the loons resting in the nearby bay are willing to call out and break it.

Earlier, I went to the dock to stand in the swirling mist, to be embraced by it, and become lost in it. It was as though the mist itself was alive – moving with a purpose all its own across the lake, a gentle shroud to force, enforce the stillness, if only for a few hours before day break. I didn’t need to be forced though into this stillness, instead, I relished those extended moments… there are not enough of them in any given day, not nearly enough…

I feel as though I am watching emptiness itself through the window of this cottage. There is nothing to grasp in the mist. Some would argue that because the mist obscures everything, covering it and making it impossible to see that it is the opposite – but to me the beauty is in that there is little to see that we don’t already know is blanketed by mist. What can be seen is not questioned any more than what can’t be seen – if you can see it, you know you are seeing it through the mist, and won’t necessarily be able to see all of it or in any great detail… and what you can’t see, you know it is obscured by the mist. There is no point in worrying about it until the mist dissipates. In the mist, there is no guess work to be done – nothing can be seen clearly – and we accept that this is the way it is in the mist. No struggling to find out what is being hidden from view, instead, I just sit quietly here, simply enjoying the mist, the land and everything around me just as it is. The mist reminds me of nothing but the mist. I like this. There is nothing to distract me from being here. Now that the sun is rising higher in the sky, and the mist is starting to burn off, the brightly coloured trees begin to pull my eyes away. The sunlight is competing with the fall leaves by creating beautiful lines of shadows between the pines and balsam. I cannot help but follow each one now too. The trees and their mossy coats call to me, asking me to walk among them, and the stones whisper to a shout to pay attention to them as well, covered in thick emerald green in places …. So much demanding my attention! I am grateful to the mist – for its sweet silver face, for greeting me this morning. I am happy that I did not miss these moments…

~

hush…

the lake is singing

in soft, low tones

before sunrise

alone with early morning

she dances as though

no one is watching

maybe she believes no one is

the world still is sleeping

while her silver nightdress skims

across the still glass

barely reflected in the half-light

serene arms extended

silver tendrils like bracelets

drip over her wrists and ankles

moving slowly to harmonies

only she can hear

hush

in these silent moments

embraced

from your watchful post

she reminds you

with her cool airy kisses

that she knows she is not alone

never alone

and neither are you, dear one…

neither are you

~

ho! The loon calls

to his partner

as dusk settles on the lake

we will swim together

you and I

while the land prepares

to sleep

fish swim slowly

beneath our feet

and snapping turtles slumber

deeper below

we can swim here

you and I

in this warm golden light

before the sun rests too

come my love

come with me

we will sing and waterdance

here between the long shadows

of the trees.

~

in silence

every thing is heard

breath of the mist thunders

on new ears just opened

in the morning

wings stretch above

the water line

and crash down

before the final leap

into the sky

waves clamor against

the wooden dock

clanging like deep soulful bells

that fill the souls

of my feet with sound

and somewhere nearby

the moss is waking up

the only sound that rivals now

is the pounding of my own heart

~

I have discovered that it is not possible to sit on the wooden dock by the water and watch the sun setting and feel any measure of regret for the time spent there. There is a stillness that grows in me each time I walk the short path down. It is perhaps the echo of the silence that follows face of the water as the sun falls lower behind the trees, and the orange-gold light spreads across the sky. Maybe I am just as much an echo of this moment, of this silence, of this lake – nothing more.

The sunset now could be the mirror image of the morning; the lake was like glass, and the sky above held the smallest break along a line of heavy clouds, just wide enough for the sunlight to shine through. Golden as well, brushing the tops of the trees and reflected perfectly below in the water. It was just as breathtaking as it is now – and I am the silent witness once again. The loon is the only one brave enough to break the silence, but even his call is not shattering – it does not crush the silence, but instead enhances it.

This morning, thoughts of you were still firmly tied to dreams that I had the night before. They pulled me along through the fog of being half-awake, and I could do nothing but follow them. It is not strange that I think to you, or that I wake up and somehow you are tied to dreams, but even now, as the day closes, I am here, thinking once again. There is a sense of being incomplete, when you are not near me.

~

the gentle knocking of my heart

echoes the waves

as they fall against the shore

each moment like a photograph

complete in itself

I am the silent witness

Remembering, recording

On the soul

As though engraving in stone

So never will I forget

I reach out heart, mind

To hold you

Empty case and empty space

Not grasping

~

this shell

smooth

and purple lines

like veins through

and the white bridge

to join two halves

unbroken

~

II

Mermaid Close, October 2006

Breath thunders

In the face of silence

Reaching out to

Stay my lips

Open calls

Open warms

Open informs

Quiet me

Quiet room

Enough to hear

To listen

To know

What needs

To be heard.

~

Hello my old friend, I have missed you. There have been many times that I have thought about you during these days, wanted to reach out to you, and to hear your voice again. The days have been different lately, filled with observation, thought and reflection – funny I know coming from me, usually so chaotic and frantic, but I have been able to empty everything out. It has been like tipping over a tea cup and suddenly discovering an ocean was kept there. I have been flooded with a sense of peace, release and healing that I did not expect. The result has been that I am now filled with quiet joy (the sister of frantic ecstatic joy that makes people leap about and shout)… this is who I am.

~

silence-

it is not only when

the voice remains

unused

It is a strange reflection, I suppose, but I have been thinking about the nature of silence, your nature, and how I have been mistaken up until now to believe that because I rarely speak – that I know you. In this moment, I understand clearly that I am only beginning to know who you are, and have yet to truly understand. My noisy, clattering inner world is not you. Hello – for the first time.

~

III.

Mermaid Close, October 2006

The wind kept me awake in the early morning – I realized, lying in the darkness, that there was no other way that I could think of to describe the sound. It was the sound of the wind through the tall fir trees, purely that, and needed no other explanation. How many other things are like that? How many things simply sound just as they are – and why does it kindle a small fire of delight in my soul to know it? I feel like a small child when this happens, and imagine myself standing at the base of the trees outside, clapping my hands and smiling – laughing out loud, with my face turned upward. It is glee that I see in this child-face of mine. I want to call to the wind and say “I hear You!” I hear you even when you are resting – I hear you.

~

I want to write to you…

Fold the pages

White and uncreased

Into hundreds of tiny birds

Every lettered paper

And toss them

Out across the waters

To the open arms

Of the wind

My hope

That every curve

Every stroke of pen

Every line

Be carried up to you

And on these wings

Invisible and strong

Tell you once more

How much I love you

~

IV

London
November 2006

So – she’s leaving
The relentless lyrics
Fly out of the speakers
Crashing against the windows
And walls
Shattering against itself
Looking in – it’s another day
Another night waiting for another morning

So – she’s leaving
And yet has no where to go
Wanting too much
Wanting nothing at all
The song left hanging
In the air
Unheard

So – she’s leaving
The scar of absence
Constant wound
Where is the balm to heal
The mind and soul
If the room stays empty
And unused?

So – she’s leaving
The shell remains
Empty filled with remorse
And guilt
No room for love?
No room
In the palm of yesterday
My eyes naïve and too young
Sitting in the centre
Pulling the world into my lap
So – she’s leaving
Where has everybody gone?
No where everywhere
In here…

Touches heart.

02.11.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

here is your silence
in this room
laid out across the tables
in soft golden tones of candlelight
in the pages of closed books
resting now in piles
by my bare feet

here is your silence
wrapped like the amethyst beads
around my wrist
this pulse that we all share
shortening the distance
between us

here is your silence
in this quiet place
of my heart
the night folded into me
until I know longer know
where the night begins and I end
here is where love turns into
the next spiral of life
this is where silence walks

out across one open palm
to the next
held together

my heart to yours

~
03.11.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

This portrait of you
Sitting before me
Framed and tilted on the tabletop
Makes me wonder about the
Rest that is not found here
Eyes watch back
From the smooth edge of the paper
The edges will yellow with time
The sun will fade the ink
And the glass will bubble
All this to distort the image
Captured in an instant

This portrait of you
Before me in black and white
In shades of gray
I was not prepared for
But accept without hesitation
The light through the window
Draws shadows across the desk
And as the day unfolds
The lines change and leave
Your face partially hidden
Even through the shadows though
It is your eyes that hold me still

This portrait of you
Could be the last remaining fragment
That touches my fingers
One day and
The rest – a memory
Or a future unfulfilled
Neither matters to me
Only now
As you sit here
Before me
Just long enough for me to say
In my heart, my soul, I love you

~

15.11.06

Leigh-Anne Tyson

There is no end
In the centre of this breath
I can’t imagine
What is lost
Passed the edges of it
Where unattended parts of me
Tumble into the unknown
Unnoticed, uncared for
No end
And yet

The beginning is tucked
Into the folds of right now
In the creases of pages
In shadowlines
Chaotic and brilliant
In the candlelight

It is not lack of imagination
That I keep myself from creeping
To the edges of this breath
Tracing them with
Memories and dreams
Other remnants that drift
Like loose threads through me
Watching over with tentative eyes
Half scared half curious
About all that I have missed

Notes unplucked, unscored, unsung
Unheard
No end
In the centre
And the turning flame, like the candle’s
Draws from everything around
Upward
Taking me with it
Until nothing remains
Nothing at all
Except the breath

~
15.11.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

You are drunk
In your silence
You,  full moon parading
Through the night sky
Shining silver
And spreading the disease
Of lunacy about
Flailing hands and glib reply
I am too tired, too spent it seems
To see the remotest mirth
In what troubles me
There is no comfort
In misplaced laughter
When I find my foot step
Out alone again
Because the world is too busy
With other things

Not even am I asking you moon
To stop your reveling as you
Carouse with the trees
Leaving them bare in the
September night
No – not even you can let rest
My head or let the words stand as
They do
Misunderstood perhaps
And somewhere in the silence between
I long to be drunk too and forget
This damned eternity that I have chosen
Sick on the instinct of flight
And folly to feel the tears well up
Again and again
Because I was not enough
For someone to stay
When I need just one person
To be near
Just one
Besides my annoying self
Attachment to living
Yes that I have
And want simple companionship
While I watch the world
In its haunting beauty unfold
In front of my eyes
But no
Under this shining face
Yours ever the same
Unchanging over centuries and
Beyond the reaches of time
Things remain and
I spend another night
Feeling sorry for living
This selfish life of mine
And wonder what I did
To make it so
One day I will understand
One day I am sure.
Maybe in the end that is
the only thing to do
Just laugh

because nothing else
makes sense.

~
07.09.06
la tyson

In my haste to understand
I should have not remained so silent
And let beauty pass
Not knowing it would be so fleeting
Like a broken mantra
The words repeat again
And again
Hollow and cold
Leaving me
A shell

Not the only beauty
Left in the world, my world
Not the first or last to pass
Through my fingers like the wind
And yet now, as night grows deeper
And deeper
I press myself to the glass
To watch the darkness

I stretch myself not far enough
To see the turmoil within
Just enough to scar the surface
Thin lines to remind me
That there is much I don’t know
Can’t know and won’t know

Words trip me over
Release me
Heal me
Hear me
See me
Hold me
Set me free
I can do nothing more

Night will take me
Soon enough
And rest if I am lucky
Will steal me away to other places
Insight will wait for the breaking
Of another night of soul fasting
To know who I am
Without the aid of other mirrors
With
Nothing
~
09.09.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

Perpetual
motion
Heart beating in a teardrop
Not my own
The volume of a song
Just loud enough to hear
Cuts through the silence
The unnecessary context
Tears the soul to pieces
Life to be continued
In the creases and forgotten cracks
Newspaper folded and hiding
Under empty plates
Shadows dwell and leave
Flat screen throws light
Across the room
The moment waiting
For the explanation
Of its own return
And gets none

~

13.09.06

Leigh-Anne Tyson

Just enough
Enough and now the print
Drips down just like blood
Seeking the lowest point
Gravity an indifferent enemy

Edges of the page halt the progress
Not the end but leave me
Lost in the lines once again

Inner soundtrack roars
As I trip through each one
Disorder rides through on
My back

Just enough
Enough and now the threads unravel
Bare skin exposed – body unbound
Rain pounds the window
Like a lover desperate to enter

Romantic discontent with the world blurs
What lies before – malaise
Inherited through the content of the day’s page
Another and another – words disjointed and
Misunderstood

Letters, collected and assembled, bleed the last moments
And I dip to the flashing
Slow and languid signs – electric pulse
To replace what is absent elsewhere

Just enough

Enough and now the glass threatens to spill

In my haste to close the paper – fold it away

And close the light but my fingers
Can’t stop the flow

Tonight everything reminds me to stop
Enough – my unused voice says simply
It’s been just enough

~
13.09.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

hello life –

hello

Life – in a child’s voice
Small and innocent
I call to you
Call to you
Not for answers right now
Not the sage or saviour
But just to hear the echo
Of your reply in the corridors
Of my heart

Sisters of mine
Your voices are gone from
My ears
These days – I don’t blame you
For leaving
The path you walk
Is your own
We all walk in our own way
My heart is heavy all the same
As your footfalls grow fainter
The love and nurturing that I once felt
Gone

Life – I lay my head at your feet
While the night sky turns above
Your counterpart is never far I know
Watching as you do
The stars dancing in the night air
I have felt to kiss of dew in
Early mornings

Brothers of mine – oh brothers
Of mine
Your silence envelopes me
Your ever evolving, changing selves
Give me strength
In moments that take my hand
And hold me – our paths
Cross in long winding loops
Wide arms reassure me
Guide me, comfort me
Hold me forward

Life – all I have needed
Wandering through
Is here – the rest
So unnecessary
Loose like chaff in the wind
Pieces of me too will fly
Leaving the core to remain

Hello life, hello

You and your partner never far
In the twilight of myself
I will sit with you both
And let the world
Wash over me
In my own voice
The song continues

10.08.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson