•  
  •  

Between Here and There (A Short Story in Verse)~ by Yoshay Lama Lindblom

 Between Here and There (A Short Story in Verse)~ by Yoshay Lama Lindblom

Epiphany

My name is Beatrix
I am twenty and six.
My life so far
hasn’t been a magnum opus
but it hasn’t been
too shallow either.
People wonder about my eye colour
because it’s neither brown,
nor blue or green
It’s a brilliant golden.
Blaming my mother for it,
my father left and never looked back.
The calumny spread like wildfire,
took fancy of the neighbourhood’s ire
they spurned my mother
and turned her into a living pyre.
Dried like a raisin she withered away,
you might be surprised as this I say,
to leave me alone she never wanted,
so she is back, only a gentle ghost,
and now my house is haunted.

Life Goes On

I live in the same house,
sleep on her bed
sometimes I see
my mother looking down at me
with her pallid face.
My yellow luminescent eyes
turned me into an outcast
very early in life.
People ignore me
wherever I go
bully me,
call me a feckless coward
for never revealing
my secret.

The Eyes

I look into the mirror
and meet my eyes,
I wonder what mystery lies
behind these horrid eyes,
behind its creation
around which my fate has spun.
They look frightening
especially in the dark,
two yellow sparks
staring back.
My real eyes I reckon,
must have been
scooped out with something
like an ice-cream scoop.
In its place this fearsome pair,
must have been grafted
to my despair.

Yearning

I always wanted to fall in love
like characters in a book
Hopelessly and
irrevocably.
A reward of sorts
It would have been,
had a boy noticed
a girl who had only
wanted to be seen
behind this monstrosity.
But the boys you see,
wanted nothing to do with me.

Visitation

As I sat high on the loft
one day,
By the attic window
watching the sun sink,
turn red from yellow
one day.
From behind the mound
a head arose,
balanced well
on broad shoulders
lanky limbs
carried him swift
with immediate strides
right up to the door
of the house where I hide.

The Meeting

He stood outside
rapping at the door,
I stood inside and listened
as the knocking shook my core
a whisper arose
from within
so I opened the door
to let him in.
Lo! And behold!
my heart cried out
for his eyes were the colour
The colour of gold.
“Who are you?” I tried to press,
but with careless ease
he came in
and on my lips
planted a supple kiss

Love

Love is pure, so they say,
it’s purity remains forever unfazed,
even after lovers have passed away
they say.
The value of love is hard to grasp,
for those that might never have had
found oneself within its generous clasp.
I trembled at first
as I’d never been touched,
then I found my self
falling and rising
rising and falling
like frothy waves
dashing against the rocks.
That was love
both sweet and sore,
and that to me was more than pure.

Abandoned

He left me one sorrowful morn,
without a goodbye he was gone.
Left with no inspiration
no will to carry on,
and there by the cliff,
I began to cry,
a song of love
a song of loss.
My plaintive tune echoed
down below the eternal vales
and people to this day say
“Let her be.
do not mention her name
nor her story.
her spirit roams
crying a sorrowful tune,
high up in the cliffs
from where she, herself had thrown
to a place where she was never found.
speak her name and she will find
a way to sneak into your love life
carrying a curse to wreak a strife.”

My name is Beatrix
I am twenty and six,
and forever I remain
young and heart broken
roaming the cliffs and
flying down the vales
until my lover comes back
and locks me in an eternal embrace.

©Yoshay Lama Lindblom 2013