This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: the word ‘tire’. It’s also a make-up post for Just Jot It January Day 20. The prompt was “ghost”, supplied by Barbara at teleportingweena.Come join in – there’s just a few simple rules. Check out the #SoCS hashtag, or Get more SoCS right here!
One more bit: Standard Disclaimer applies. I make no claims to own these characters. I certainly expect no monetary profit from playing with them. But, when a certain pointy-eared lady insists I tell her stories, I listen. After all, I’ve seen her fight. =)
“I’m So Damned Tired of Ghosts”
“I’m so damned tired of ghosts!”
She sat bolt upright, her sightless eyes wide and staring. She was shaking hard, but her body was rigid, her voice so high and brittle it was on the edge of shattering.
Trip went to her, but he didn’t touch her right away. Even if she couldn’t see him, and wasn’t aware, she was strong, and she didn’t need to see to know where he was. Her sense of smell was undamaged, after all.
“I’m right here, pepperpot.” He kept his voice low, a whisper so soft he almost couldn’t hear it.
But she did.
“Make the ghosts go away, Trip. Make them go – make them go -” Her pleas were choked off by the first sob. It wasn’t a soundless Vulcan sob. No, this one was raw and beyond her control.
Like the ghosts in her mind, they came from him. She couldn’t feel the bond consciously, but it kept coming back to her in odd echoes and images. Like the ghosts – his sister Lizzie, her mom, those four babies, the crewmates lost along the way.
“Ghosts aren’t logical,” she sobbed out, and reached to him.
“Oh, pepperpot. I know they aren’t. I’m so sorry -”
But she wasn’t awake, not yet, or not really. Still, the stiffness went out of her, and she let Trip gather her into his arms, settle her head against his chest, where she could hear his heartbeat.
T’Pol drifted into a more peaceful sleep, and Trip held her, rocking softly, and hoped he wouldn’t give her any more ghosts.
And, as if all that above isn’t enough for one blog, it’s also my entry for today’s Love Is In Da Blog. This week’s theme is spouses, significant others, and partners.
Loving someone enough to commit my life to him isn’t easy in every moment, and, today, I share this poem, originally written for OctPoWriMo. So, for today, an acknowledgment of that simple reality. As a bonus, it includes the word ‘tire’, although that’s coincidental, in this case.
Love’s Hard Place
Long
Ago
I was caught
in a whirlpool.
The water crushed me
Tight against a rock wall
Wet sharp travertine
Deadly turquoise
Relentless
Too strong
Pinned
I
struggled
for release
for my freedom
from pressing waters
abrading hard place
water pressure
far too much
constant
force
and
too tired
fading will
aching muscles
suction subsuming
greedy waters swirl
hungry turquoise
beautiful
sacred
fear
grips me
still tighter
getting weaker
yanking at my legs
which twitch and tremble
almost ready to
give in give up
surrender
drowning
death
then
Two arms
That belong
to the man who
will propose to me
in a little while
but now pulls me free
holds me so close
My safety
And I
rest
and
marry
that strong man
bear his children
two alive one not
take him within me
and bear the weight
frustrations
friction
angst
I
didn’t
know this was
the sometimes price
of that little word yes
I said so long ago
when he saved me
from the rock
and hard
place.
That
sometimes
he would be
my own whirlpool
of love and anger
desire injustice
Abraded love
helpless
tears.
That
this same
man who pulled
me free could so
easily bind me
into his worries
his furies
his own
life.
Long
ago
I was caught
In a whirlpool
love constricts me
Tight against a rock wall
Turquoise travertine
Nature and
love’s hard
place.
Thank you for writing a great story with my prompt word! I loved it! And your poem…I was pulled right into it! 🙂
I’m glad you liked the story – it’s part of a longer arc I’ve been playing with, as T’Pol shows it to me. As for the poem, being pulled in is a good thing, since that’s literally what happened to me in that whirlpool…and the argument that inspired the poem.
Lovely poem.
Thank you. I used to stew and steam when my Accomplice and I are at odds. In general, we are very attuned, so it’s always a shock when the turbulence crops up.
Writing a poem was a much better way to deal with those emotions, and remember that, even when I’m angry with him, this is still the man who rescued me from the whirlpool (yup, that really happened, at Mooney Falls in the Grand Canyon), and whom I’ve loved for almost nineteen years now. i wouldn’t feel so pulled and spun if I didn’t value what we have so much.
Awwwww, poor T’Pol. And love the poem!
This one gets tacked somewhere vaguely after the end of “Animals” from my advent calendar stories. I think there’s something missing between, but this is what TnT gave me, so…
I like the poem too. I’ve never thought love poems should only be about the happy and easy times. Life isn’t always, and I think love is at its best when it holds and grows stronger through adversity.
If you’re still interested in a TnT beta-read, I will have something ready for you sometime in early March, I think.
Absolutely I am!
My heart is hurting for both Trip and T’Pol. Wonderfully written.
Mine is, too. The only thing that helps is knowing that, eventually, it does get a bit easier to bear…
I totally agree with Linda. Thanks for sharing 🙂
Oh, that’s beautiful poem! I like the story with T’pol and Trip too (of course!) I love your wedding photo, it’s so classic and elegant!
Your story – so heartbreaking. And a lovely poem, my dear. 🙂