Radiant Sound

She always thought of time as that of a thief in the night. As she lays sleeping it will silently and quickly take minutes, hours, days, months and years from her already long life. She wakes in the morning feeling as though she has lost something, misplaced during the moments of tiredness before she lays down to sleep. It will come to her, certainly, and she will find that which is lost is still within her reach. But the worrisome object of her concern does not appear.

She goes about her day watching the telltale signs that she is late for an appointment. Perhaps the sun is too high in the sky now, there are far too many people already busy about their day. The air once coolish, settling on her skin and the tiny drops of moisture from the marine layer of air, has warmed urging her to shed her hoody to expose her arms to the sun’s rays. She parks her car as quickly as a full parking lot will allow her and approaches the seven story building. After traversing the steps she enters the door and takes the elevator up. But, no, she is on time for the ritualistic drawing of blood to tell her that her blood in neither too thick nor too thin. A small price to pay for her gift of life orchestrated by a synthetic valve within her chest.

constant ticking clock
radiant sound
within a beating heart

She walks into the afternoon sun and views her surroundings. She is always surprised and amazed she is still here to view the horizon as though she is seeing it for the first time and is only now stepping into her life.

© July 2017 Renee Espriu

heart art

Falling

She remembers the
feeling of
falling
falling
falling
down a thousand
feet to the
creek below

The creek bed lie
swirling
swiftly
moving
in the rainy
 windy
afternoon

She could see the
pebbles

smooth
glass
reflections
greeting

Then the bridge
swinging
stilled
silencing
her fears

She trembled as
hanging on
she saw him
waiting

The other side
beckoning she
moved forward

She no longer
was falling

© February 2012
Renee Espriu

Years ago now I went on a hiking trip with some friends and my teenage son. The foot bridge across the stream below was closed so we climbed to the top to another way across, a swinging bridge with rope for hand holds and wooden slats that were not very close to one another.  When we arrived it began raining and the wind was strong. My son went straight across but I remained glued to the spot. I don’t do well with heights and I’ve never again went across another swinging bridge. There was only room for one person at a time to walk. Quite an experience.

Until I’m Gone


Doorway framed
observing,
wondering about a
lifetime of
patterns
his snoring, her
gentle breathing
shaped like
spoons facing
each other
lying unmoving,
imagining if in
dreaming each
one tells the
other the one
feeling left
unsaid, to please
hold me until
I’m gone

© June 2011 Renee Espriu