On the way home from the gym, Bird and I saw a flock of geese winging their way Southward, their ragged vee formation shaping up, lines smoothing, each finding its place in its line, each finding its rhythm.
Wings arching into parenthesis, they flew, driven by instinct and the wind.
The Gypsy wept and cried out, voice ragged,torn, almost lost in the grey: "Take me with you!"
Oh, how she wants to fly...
It is Autumn and the Gypsy stirs, begging to be released to wander with the wind, to be wild, unfettered. She yearns for I know not what, and she mourns for I know not what, and she sees the birds fly free and wishes she could soar with them.
Poor gypsy. She did not ask for this domesticity; she would have gone to the sea and run upon the waves, or risen high in a balloon and skated through the clouds on the wind, or walked the earth with her endless stride. I shackled her, and she is quiet in her corner, but once in a while she makes herself heard.
When the geese fly, or the wind blows just so, she calls out, stirs the wildness, breathes her feral exhalations and turns my eye to the life unlived.
Perhaps one day I will unchain her, fling her skyward, and let her carry me...away, away, for a year and a day...
I saw your comment on Writer Dad and "Shade and Sweetwater" caught my eye.
ReplyDeleteI read your explanation on the sidebar, and it reminds me of something I read and loved as a child (still do, actually), so I was wondering if maybe you read the same thing?
BTW, I love what you wrote about Gypsy. Very visual description, but since I haven't had a chance to read more of your blog, I'm not sure who Gypsy is.
Thanks for stopping in, Kool Aid! I did read the same thing (I still have them, all these years later), I am certain, but that's not where I got the saying. Bless 'em for using it, but I learned it elsewhere. Still, the more the merrier!
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile, the gypsy is the part of me that wishes she were free to travel unfettered, no house, no family, no material goods to hold her down - nothing but wandering feet and her music to carry her along whatever path the wind blows her down.
She is usually quiet in the back of my mind, but sometimes something wakes her, and then I must wrestle her back down unto her corner or she'll wreak havoc with my psyche. Poor thing.
I have the whole collection, minus one book, but such is life. I can't wait to share it with my kids when they get older.
ReplyDeleteYour post about Gypsy is so much clearer now and I totally get it. Thanks for sharing!!
Kool Aid, I still have the first four books of collected graphic novels, but I am stingy with them - my son won't get to handle them until I know he'll treat them like the treasures they are!
ReplyDeleteStill..it'll be fun to be able to exclaim "But Petalwing LIKES YOU!!" or "Hushup, make wrapstuff!" in a high, squeaky voice and know someone else gets it.