Julia…

Julia Marlowe actress 1866-1950

 

They say
she was born
in that
massive thunderstorm
in 66′

They didn’t mean
she come into this
world through
her mother

What they meant
was that the lightning
came down
and split the ground

like Aphrodite
rising from
the waves
she stepped onto this
cursed earth

And with each and every
step she took
throughout her life
she left behind smoldering
footprints

They called her a witch,
hexborn

Said horses spooked
at the mention of her name
when she left a room
flowers would wilt and
cream would turn sour

Said her papa
had made a deal with
the ruinous powers
cheatin’ at cards

Devil came to collect
left a fever
and his mark on
her momma

One sunday
Preacher stopped his Sermon
when she walked into
the back of the chapel

Sat in the last row
not sayin nothin….
just watching.

I met her at
the Green Brier Saloon
one of a flock
of soiled doves

She wasn’t mute
but she didn’t talk much
No real need for talkin
anyways

My hands have seen
a tough life’s work
scars and calluses
beaten by the western sun
into rocks and sand

Didn’t seem right
touching her

Every time I was
with her
she’d take the face bowl
off the side table
fill it with cool water

She’d set on the bed
and wipe away
at my face and hands
ringing the dust out
of the rag
over and over

Straddlin’ my lap
in nothing but that
cameo choker
she wore
it was hard to consider
her a tortured soul

But when she
was done she’d set
the water aside
and she would take
my hands
And hold them against
her cheeks

And look me in
the eye
the whole time…

There was a sadness there
something behind
those dark orbs
pleading with me

Something ancient
sent here from
somewhere else

I heard she told
one of the other girls
she was an angel
and this world was
pulling her feathers out
one by one

So when she
finally disappeared
I expected for it to be
in a ball of flame and fury
and righteous resolution.

When I came up
to the room
same as always…

next to the face bowl on the table
there was a faded picture …

next to that
a single white feather…

…and I carried them with me
the rest of my days.

Audio

About Eric

Writer/Plumber/Poet/Father/Gentleman/Romantic
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32 Responses to Julia…

  1. Geetha B says:

    What a lovely poem but how sad that the angel disappeared!

  2. You’ve taken this lovely enigma wrapped her in the most unique and beautiful veil of mystery and romance as only you can do Eric. I don’t have the words but you do. Blown away once again. <3<3<3

  3. This completely pulled me in and wove a spell where all else faded away.

  4. Reblogged this on Brave and Reckless and commented:
    Eric Syrdal/My Sword and Shield. . .
    This story told in verse completely swept me away from my every day life.

  5. Lee Dunn says:

    Reblogged this on AreMyFeetOffTheGround and commented:
    Such heart, mystery, and romance. Just stunning.

  6. Eric …this story telling as it should be … life as poetry … Eric

    • Eric says:

      Thank you, Eric. I appreciate that very much. Much of my work is story driven poetry. Welcome aboard. I’ll be sure to head over your way soon!

  7. Kindra M. Austin says:

    Reblogged this on Kindra M. Austin and commented:
    I wish Eric could tell me bedtime stories every night. Gaaahhh…

  8. Emily says:

    Excellence…such a story teller. Loving the audio, as always ❤

  9. Purpleanais says:

    Wow! And the audio… ❤

  10. Diana says:

    This is so amazing! I was transported to the era utterly; so vivid are the scenes you build. Astounding. If it had been a book, I might not have put it down for hours (and I struggle to find the long hours for this pursuit these days). Fabulous Eric!

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