Here, now

Spoken word I performed last night to the song “Be Here Now” by Ray LaMontagne.

●●●

She lay with her face pressed to the floor, crimson cries spilling from split lips. It was like she was hoping that if she pressed herself hard enough against it, the ground would make the pain stop, that his hands would lock mid-air.

She huddled with her eye sockets glued to her knees, shrinking waistline and outlined hips as she was fed lies instead of food and tried to come to grips with the fear she feasted on – attempting to Origami into herself and never unfold again.

She stood with her palms mirrored to the sky – scarlet stories draining from her wrists. It was like she was looking for a pick-me up, someone to lift her up out of the mess.

She ran with only her feet leaving footprints in the sands of time. It was like she couldn’t move fast enough, or far enough from the tightening grip of being the best, coming out tops, performing till she drops. Dead.

She fell with all the heaviness her lifeless soul could no longer hold like a nest too full the broken birds did bend brow and break falling down. Shredded knees torn by stones, she doesn’t move at all now.

This is your story. It is also mine.

Tell-tale signs of things gone wrong, mistakes made, stringing along to the wrong guitar, the wrong band, the wrong song.

So I present to you my melody.

It starts in the rain with the faint sound of hope being coaxed from a violin. Somewhere ahead there is a head-light and the scratching of vinyl across black city landscape. Beneath the blanket of skyscrapers asleep, there is a beating of a drum and the awkward plink-plonk of a stranger coming along. She has sung to sleep the nightmares of what she walked away from.

She is here. She is you. She is me. She stands now, performing an etude of memories long gone. She made it this far. We made it this far.

But more than wishing and waiting and wanting more, more than the girl with her face pressed to the floor, there are high notes carrying us on, there are dreams for us to soar upon. Even if for a moment, more than the tell-tale signs of things gone wrong, we are here, now. This is your story. It is also mine. In every moment, now-now-now, I’ve been here all along.