Crunchstumble Covenant

Wish for something better

step-tap-groan step

wish for something better

step-tap-groan step

I'm an old man this late afternoon. The stick gives a hollow clunk, like the hammer of a xylophone striking the London streets.

wish for something better

- for something better

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

Huskleaves, the first fallen, like the newly dead after the unveiling of some secret weapon, dance across the land on a hidden gust, away from me; falling from some forever behind.

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

wish for something better

I wish

I wish for something

I wish

Wish better

step-tap-groan step

It is lonely to see the world celebrate a feast from your homeland, without anyone to share it with, yourself. It is like some benign mockery, issued by a good friend. Funny and true but hurtful nonetheless. I try not to become hypnotised by the endless crawl of escaping leaves. I try to stay sharp.

step-tap-groan step

wish for something better

wish for something better

i

better

Somewhat breathless just from moving along. I used to dance with a sword in each hand. I was fearless in the night-lands; as safe as a shadow. A guest in that realm. There is a dull roar of traffic. The whole city cries out that something is wrong. Perhaps the leaves know something we don't.

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

I pause with a sharp inhalation as a car pulls out over the kerb, nearly clipping my undone leg. I reach for a dagger that is not there. I nearly shake my stick. It makes me try to giggle, but the noise that comes out feels wetter, hotter. Drowned out by the complaint of the city; forever speculative.

step-tap-groan step

I

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

better

I nearly stumble as the ferrule of the stick is pinned somehow, arresting my advance with an abrupt screeching of grinding gears. My chin, so used to punch, slap, and jeer, rushes towards the cobbles, trying to remember stone. The bitter leg, the one with pain, darts out, and I complete the duellist's dance, an old drill. My stick stabs out, a wooden side-sword thrusting, and the invisible rotella shield on my left arm catches no glint of the absent sun. I allow the drill to carry me forward, shifting the weight, my frail remains, to the other leg. Back in defence.

step-tap-groan step

step-tap-groan step

wish for better

wish for better

I bet I just looked like a prick.

step-tap-groan step

it must get better

It was wrong to say that I'm alone this Samhain. I'm bitter to admit it. The pain is always there. Cold and tight. Tired and raw. Dull and sharp. Relentless and sleepy.

wish for better

wish for better

it's all gotten so difficult

wish for better

I'm nearly one full year sober. With the booze gone, the Bipolar Embassy is panicked. It seems a delegation from ADD has moved into the neighbourhood to keep it company. But has it just moved in, or was it always there? Even my imaginary friends have moved out. Most of the real ones are gone. There is too much space for madness.

wish for better

step-tap-groan step

wish better

step-tap-groan step

make it better

The light is dying and I'm thirsty by the time I reach the Green. I see a fire engine with a jack-o-lantern on the ladder. It flashes and wails away to some horror. It was originally a turnip, you know, not a pumpkin. They don't grow those at home.

step-tap-groan step

I am so tired. Fully spent.

step-tap-groan step

Old trees from some ancient time stand sentinel here, bordering this place. Each alone, it seems at first glance, but for the gentle fingertip touch of their canopies. Through the exploding cathedral of the sunset, they brush against each other, up there. The wail of the sorrowful city eases.

tep-tap-groan step

step

breathe

step

I feel too young to have had so many lives. Too old to be so young.

tep

tap

pause

breathe

breathe again

There is a comfort amongst the trees. Old magic. Safety.

step-tap step.

breathe

hum a tune

smile into the wind.

Far from tribe and clan, far from my magic, these trees offer me what they can. A moment of calm within the ring of their protection. They are draoi, of a different sort. They will hear the gods with me.

there is no sound

no feet

touch

the

earth

I sense gunpowder in the air, and feel the tension of the traffic fall away. There is no taste of pain. No smell of loneliness. No hunger for the salt-waves or thirst for the smoke of trouble.

we are a river flowing.

never alone

we are a vast network of oceans

there is sand between my toes

there is no time

nothing is everything

I walk along the shoreline. Along the two realms. The trees are those who went before. Standing now; proud in their grim way, light-hearted against the rotting rain. They are people, the old magic in them living for the water and the sun and the ladybird.

how many pools,

in the clearing?

Each time before: a pain, a betrayal, a love. The circle never ends. Each time before: a conflict, a madness, a grief. So young for so many lives. Each death a life of death. Death and Life as one. The growth from the rot.

the world returns

to the clearing

and the pools turn

opalescent.

The shoreline is a symphony of lapping waves and silence. The clouds return, and I am in the Green. The old spirits of the trees smile down. I am never alone. They will commune with me. They will dine with my thoughts. They listen. They hear the pulses.

Tap

Tap

Tap.

Tap.

I set for home. Gazing up at the canopy. At the trees. Changed, somehow. Lighter and darker.

Step-tap step

step-tap step

step-tap step

step-tap step

Each alone, it seems at first glance, but for the gentle fingertip touch of their canopies. They connect up there. Down below. So alone. Never alone. Sometimes we don't know where to look, it seems, to see our connections.

step-tap step

step-tap step

The thinnest space between the Realms stretches out like the warm echoes of the dying sun. I am a leaf on the breeze. The old year has died. The old death is dead.

step-tap step

step-tap step

step step

step.

The wailing city goes unsoothed and I feel the chill of some hopeful new. I sing as I swing the stick about me. Banishing ghost and goblin. I drop a crust of bread on the hungry grass.

Something better

Something better

I wish.

Better.