Fridge Talk

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

You click and crack.
I swear to God I am going to snap.
What is wrong with you, do you need a nap?

You hold my nourishment and contain my fuel.
But all I feel like some days is that you just want to duel.

It is funny actually, how long I have left you ailing.
The days I intensely dream of sending you sailing.

Why all of a sudden are you speaking this odd language?
Did you take a class and get injured? Do you now need a bandage?

I cannot see or find the source of your injury, you cry out to me full of fury.
Just chill out for a minute, I will keep excavating your core.
I am literally now, sprawled out on the floor.

I think your sounds are a result of ageing.
The wrinkles and creases and misalignments obvious;
Yet still I stand in front of you questioning and gauging.

I cannot bear to part with you and your wonderful heart.
We have never really ever been apart.

Who or what will cool my cucumbers, freeze my berries and crisp my Ambrosias?
Do you have any idea what your absence will do?
I think I need Oprah!

I wish you would silence but, in a small and slightly messed up way,
I kind of want you to scream harder.
Tell me more and louder, so I can even hear you in the shower.

Dear fridge of mine, will you ever stop tapping, clacking and ticking?
If not, fret I will no more;
There has got to be someone who understands the nature of your fixing.

It’s a miracle. Your fixer has just appeared.
A solution you could not mention; heat.
You weren’t warm enough, the air around you was cold.
So your bolts and screws and panels had been achy and off kilter I have now been told.

What a strange phenomena. I adjusted my warmth and you began to heal.
And oh my, had I known it was this simple;
I would have jacked up the heat a hell of a lot sooner, given that a try.

I might actually miss your cracking noises, wishing in fact, they did not fade.
There was something about this peculiar several month long annoying event;
That has given me insight I cannot now trade.

The quirks of life, my fridge indeed not just an appliance but a tool for guidance.
I am paying close attention now to the broken fixtures, the ailing clocks, the halting of heat and time and the sudden shifts in temperature.
I am forced to examine the science and wisdom of noise…and silence.
This might just be, an overture.

No coincidence broke my clocks, injured my fridge, stopped the flow of heat.
And not by chance did I say your name and one hour later we are to meet.

I love your invitations, thank you for letting me see.
Something so beautiful and important that now and forever;
It will be impossible to not ever, not see.

Two Is Enough

~ Emma ~ 2 Comments

Two is enough for me.
If you gave me three, four, six, seven;
I’d simply say, “Thank you, but one is just heaven.”

I don’t know why I look up to the sky.
Maybe because the answers to questions of low;
Seem to always be found up high or higher so.

Busy, rushing, too many, too much.
Why does this game always feel the same?
Same old numbers adding up to more pain.

It’s why I like less, one and two.
Simpler, calmer, easier, intimate and quiet.
My cat used to say, “Emma you and me, that’s it.”

You see my smile, hear my voice.
But you do not see me or hear me and it is quite alright;
I have gifted myself wisdom to remain not small, but full of height.

The light shines brightly, kindly and with soft intention.
My heart is guided in the utmost strangest way now;
I am sorry for the explanation that I have not to know how.

I will not take up space where someone else should be.
My mind and soul have figured out the equation and it has come, with some hesitation.
But question not my intuition strong, I am lightning and thunder, the rain my slippery sedation.

Not nine or twelve or five. Just one or two.
The world is not what they say.
I look at you looking at me and think, “this is an incredible day.”

The water on petals, the dirt on my boots.
The ducks in twos, the sunshine plus one.
Did you hear that? Silence and so many, but also none.

I can’t believe I am here now. Taken so far and so deep.
You reminded me that there is special in nothing.
Then I fell into a sleep and woke up with a perfect and reliable, trusting of something.

The softness fills me. The colour enchants my eyes.
I cry with gratitude and thanks;
I have won the prize.

When the Clocks Stop

~ Emma ~ 2 Comments

The day had rain and so did the night.
Cool sparkles on tall towers flashing and few;
I held out my tongue to taste, the sound of you.

You whispered and then screamed.
Confused were many but some so sure;
The temperature changing creating a blur.

Silence please, momentary stillness you gave.
A tear in the fabric my clothes are worn and holed;
The dampness outside and now in, leaves me quite cold.

Receiving and receiving, eloquent angels of mine.
Your language subtle, clear, persistent and radical;
My layer is shed now what’s left, a new botanical.

Hanging and sitting tick, tick, tick.
Years of noise a tapestry turned into a portal;
Seek what is beyond the hands of the immortal.

The breeze is with me I feel your message on my skin.
A realignment, unaltered contemplation in the quiet;
I am walking to mend your broken stagnation. What a riot.

Stopping, pausing, holding, nothing without nothing.
Emerging in the night what was not had in the day;
I graciously hold your screams and whispers, never alone I stay.

There is time, here and there we end but begin again.
I am waiting for you and for you too, can you come back?
I promise to give you a most wonderful snack.

Breathless just so you know, I am emptying the overflow.
Time and time and time again, wiser am I to let go;
Synchronicity you have me, guided, decoded, and now I know.

Thank you to all of you, I see you.
Vibrations higher and higher…clean.
Time is back in motion – going toward I am not green.