By Lauren Appleyard
The elderly couple will spend their night together absorbing each
other's aromas, sinking into each other's senses, and tumbling into
each other's thoughts. They melt into a mould of one.
Their decaying and wasting bodies are unveiled and vulnerable. Yet
the imperfections of age are the beauty that their peaceful,
complacent bodies project. The street lights cascade through the
wearing curtains and the dim light dances around them, creating an
aura that shrouds them. It will be the thirty thousandth night
together yet each feels the same passion, the same adoration for one
another as they felt when they first kissed, when they first touched;
when they first caressed each other. Their still souls hold the same
understanding; the night echoes the same eerie silent surreal spirit
that they felt, studying the intricate lines of their nude and
unshielded bodies all those nights ago.
Between now and tomorrow they will lie side by side, remembering and
forgetting; but knowing that they passionately and amorously loved.
They experienced and were possessed by magic, the concoction of love.
The child will linger, holding onto the last breath of night.
Protesting against sleep, arguing with parents requests for her to
sleep. She fights despite the unrelenting tightening grip of
tiredness on her body. She resists, despite her closing eyes. Weaker becomes the will. Her body floats, lit with innocence - no one could
disturb such a human beauty. So real, so raw. Thoughtless in sleep,
an untouchable soul. Between now and tomorrow.
The eye of a mother will watch her child's emotionless yet glowing
face. She will see her child change and grow in the minutes of
tucking her in and kissing her good night. She will wish a million
wishes that her child will be happy, that nothing will harm her and
that her dreams and her perceptions of the world will not be
tarnished by cruel and harsh realities. She wishes that her child
will not be defeated by evil and terrifying things that engulf souls
too soon. She prays to no one in particular that her baby will gleam
with resilience, radiance and beauty. Between now and tomorrow she
hopes that her baby will be protected and safe.
And as the moon stands alone, masking the sky, I stand alone. I lie
alone. These pantomimes of images canopy my churning mind. I wonder if such pure happiness does exist. I dream of such things because
these are the plays that keep me going; that turn the cogs, which
drive bodies. I dream that such positive energy in human emotion
because this is hope. I decide I am just yet to know such peace and
compassion; such serenity.
The nights have become crevasses, vast blackness - to be awake during
the hours, is like living through an eternity of nothing, living
through the torture of aloneness. I need these picturesque moments to
keep me going.
Between now and tomorrow, in between the tossing and turning, in
between the frustration, the loneliness and sadness - I have hope. In
the depths of my psyche I have hope that tomorrow will bring change.
That it will bring a sense of new beginning and understanding. From
the stillness of darkness to the crispness of dawn, I can only wish
for equilibrium, for peace, for harmony.