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So Beyond


My dearest fair one,

Forgive me for sharing this unwanted missive with you, but from afar I  see you standing there, looking for a shadow to appear.  Seek no more, sweet child; he is not to be found in the browns or greys of the land as the sunrises have disappeared for the winter.  The days bear no promise and are as barren as his heart and neither are meant to be presumed cordial.

Look not beneath the darkness of the mossy hills as the undulating reaches will yield no happy arrivals.  Only the soft breezes can please your soul with their gently-moving  vines  grazing your brow.  Continue your walk alone and be at peace with yourself.  Keep your eyes trained to the beyond and hope for a silhouette to suddenly appear but do so without  high expectations or  assurances of a warm  tea proferred.

Perhaps – I hope to not raise more than a glitter of hopeful light here – the best of evenings will bring a message of anticipation on one mercurial night and a signal that he might be approaching.  At that hour you’ll sense the ebony sky seared by a smiling sky-scape and the moor will carve a radiant greeting, conceiving a new affection for you, my dear.  Have faith in yourself and your ability to win new hearts or even better, to regain that previous one.

– a distant acquaintance



A Note from Wales


To a letter of correspondence, sent by the man from Wales, I lower my  eyes and read at his behest. 


Dearest Lora, I failed to nod my way to you when you called at the gate on the eve of your departure and I ask for your forgiveness on this day and upon my knee. 

Oh, dear friend of my heart, could you not discern that my auburn beard was hiding a frown which could not reveal to you the pain I felt  when I found your visage cold and empty on that day we were to meet at the bench behind the moor.  Your heart was a reluctant force and I noticed  your eyes containing the lifelessness of a lady deprived of emotion.  

I acknowledge that I, in my  expedient sense of duty to others, have caused thee grief but I beg to offer you a promise of another morrow with less suffering.   If it was not intended for us to walk companionably, I would be the first to load the cart and walk away, with head lowered in dismay for my apparent failure to appeal to the best of your sensitive nature.

Let us be of pride and joy for the concurrent travel we shared, one of robustness of vitality, as once upon a rain season, when the birds and growing buds burst forth, with our hearts in tandem.  

My dearest Lora, your everlasting presence is much required and I would grant thee freedom but my eyes look where you once stood and I feel the ghost of you suffocating me with its power.  I implore you to remain here or I will perish from the pain of your absence.   

Affectionately yours ~ ”  


I place the note in my pocket, close my eyes and feel the  burden of oppressive emotion fall away.  




Following Cathy and Heath


Once,  not so long ago, the fires of love tindered two soulmates upon this dark, dismal moorland. Cathy loved and abandoned Heathcliff  in the years that my ancestors arrived from Wales, and now I too find myself here, listening to  the faint echoes of their footsteps beside mine.   It has been two generations since they crossed these same outposts in this part of England and often I  can hear the wails of their woe.  They were pitifully lonely abject figures of passion and error, and I can hear their lamentations in the distance.


However foiled and human that they may have been, I remain a faithful servant to their memory holding them high in esteemed personification of how I wish to comport myself in the extension of my hand to others.  I wish I could restore the innocence of their childhood friendship when they had charitable joys to share with one another.  Oh that we could reconstruct our pasts and rectify the damage of our past destructions. 

Have faith in me, Cathy and Heathcliff, and trust me to glean from the  seeds of fervent love you left behind.


Walking Upon this Moor With Me


My dearest, constant companion,

It has been 78 days since we have been walking this moor together, and although my smock hem is wet from  dew saturation I am not fatigued or feeling frail of health, nor are you seeming to be weak of spirit while you endure this journey with me.   Your coat of green wool has been a comforting contribution to my shoulders and I am inspired moreso by the image of your shadow trailing beside me on days that are not overcast.

 You have lost weight, I have noticed, and yet you allow me to pluck bread from your portion, and thus gratitude grows within my being because of your devotion to my needs.  When we arrive at our destination, I promise to make many loaves of warm bread to compensate the loss one one stone.   There will be plenty of fresh butter  to add more nourishment to your tired physique. 

 The future looms ahead in indescribable nature and I profoundly worry that we may get lost before we get to a place of comfortable lodging.  We have taken several detours already and each time I feared for our safety, that we’d inadvertently find ourselves located in disjointed paths.

 Above us,  the sky has been rather accommodating on some days  when it lights our way and other times it is perilous to navigate by.  When the clouds scroll a dark presage of ominous misgivings I want to pull my shawl around me and find a tunnel where we can sit for a spell.  There is not much to protect us from the elements by way of these cliffs where we now find ourselves.

 I am reminded often of the courage it takes for you to be here — with me — and how I would find myself in solitude, wishing for a fine person like you to escort me during this trial of discovering the home I seek.   You spent a fine pence to find passage here and I am now not ashamed to feel beholden to you as you are the only friend that has sustained me when I needed encouragement on these rocky miles of desolation.

 Last night, I looked at you as you slept and as I admired your beauty, with the moonlight falling on the outline of your jaw and the sweetness of your lips, I realized how tender my heart is for you and how fortunate I am to have you here beside me. 


~ Lora



Thinking Personal

Someone asked me to accept an award and offer information about myself.  I declined the award but I am happy to answer the questions.

  • Who do you look up to?  Those who have the stamina that I don’t.
  • What do you want to accomplish in the future?  Stay focused on that which and those who matter.
  • If you have 1 million dollars, what will you do with it?  Spend it and share it. 
  • Are you a traveler who looks for budget or luxury on your holidays?  Yes, satin for cheap.
  • What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world?  Negative emotions.
  • If you could offer a newborn child only one piece of advice, what would it be?       Eat Right.
  • What are you most grateful for?  Every sunrise.
  • What is your happiest childhood memory?  What makes it so special?  Seeing my grandparents turn the corner as they arrived at my house.
  • If today’d be the end of the world, what’d you do?  Write a letter to God and ask him why he let us down.
  • If you knew you were going to die one year from today, what would you do and how would you want to be remembered?   I would check off some items from the bucket list and spend quality time with those I am close to.  I only want to be remembered by a few.  May they always remember how much I cared about them. 

Declaration to Thee


My one,

I relay this passage of meaning to you
on this day and from the distance
on the eve of the morrow, of ever long,
and through the years

of anguish, abandonments and absence
whence my voice shall echo and forever reign,
of this my heart does pledge and vow to you
that now as ever past
you shall know the templed pulses of my being
in the fulcrum of my very essence 

that however so my love was meant to be,  it shall never be dishonored and  from this  moment forward, ever proffered from my conscientious heart — to thee


 ~ Lora ~



Walking Wherever



Look fondly at me, one of lassitude

And walk with me as you wish to be of me

The vessel that carries intimate keys hidden 

However hardship may deny, I struggle along

Holding gently those I keep.

A me, scented of lavender in her pockets

 I sprinkle cloudberry onto my moor

And however frail, can render what cherish means

In more than vapid projections

But in fervor stirs deep what drags me

Wherever into the night the twine must head

Whilst the zeal of me, unlimited of demonstration

At eminent behest, will urgently carry 

To wherever pinnacle, their destination


~ lora



I’d Say

If I wrote a letter tonight
I’d begin somber lines
and say
or try to say,
but how does the heart speak
how might a pen expose the trembling breast
pull feelings into the open
like a flower blooms in the darkness
with a burst controlled from within
or a humming light evokes mysteriously

what I yearn to reveal
the fire I ruefully stoke.

And I’d begin my letter with a desperate reach and say
My poisoned heart wants while I consent
that it pulls ill-conceived drafts towards me 
too well for that which I have built these echos
and the clatter of my own demonized chaos.

My letter on this tablet would say
or query quietly
of that which has not been spoken
the words of subtle promise broken
and my secret troth might ply open
seeds of coral twice reached denouement.

My scroll would have to plead 
again, as I might play the familiar melody
attachment cords found on this lace wedge
the triangular shape on the cuspid of the old
the me torn with wringing hands in my fold
and fears that should ever wander  far
yet  remain pronounced in the glaring stars.

In these vintage lines I will say, proud
that which my heart does ever loud
the words that in silent discourse flouts
 in crimson swirls of tendered ink
no confessions of myself denied
the dismays from which I’ve cried.

But yes, the exhortation in my hand does say
 that which I’ve always said
in my whispers
my poetry
my sleep
that which fills of woe
the script of song I’d ever sing
from my fingertips, that stream 

that if of power held, I’d bring

the best of me, 

to thee.


~ Lora ~