The memory of that tricycle, abandoned on a grassy hill. For days on end, it lay in a red blanketed tumble. A perfect heap, its wheels fluttering in a lonesome song whose lyrics dreamed of painting the ground in a million years worth of someone’s childhood. Pristine in its sculpted image, nestled in between the living and the dead.
And then one day I passed that grassy hill and found the tricycle bent and broken. Its entrails spewed across the earth, its melody stolen. And I remember thinking it a tragedy of the highest order, and blaming the whole world and Jesus Christ.
I might have approached it, before it became too late. I could have turned it on its wheels and taken it home to my little sister. But then the lesson, and that image I carry to this very day would not have come along with me. Because when I remember back to that broken tricycle, I remember everything else.
They said it was a bad thing. To remember. To tuck myself into those horrible bed time stories. But I do not believe they were right. It is a gift wrapped inside a curse; A talisman whose resonance speaks to me from shallow graves and long lost stars. It helps me to understand the horrors and the beauty of this world are interwoven scriptures. I will neither concede nor abide to its testimony, but I must respect it.
The memories become a hum in the fading moonlight, a flicker in the stained glass sun. Reminding me of the yesterdays that sleep as if sunken vessels in the deep blue sea. Provoking me to close my eyes and heed the torturous lessons risen from the proverbs of Francisco Goya while Canaan sends me postcards, wishing I was there. I embrace the darkness and the light because to run from either one is to succumb to the villainy of both.
That tricycle was an angel, fallen into a new born snow. The memories are a bleeding horizon of lost and found places, whispering in the breeze from all the way back to that twisted wreck up on the grassy hill.
Promising forever, until the wolves came home.
Ahhhh B,
I just love when you write like this. Digging deep, sharing your inner thoughts in such beautifully lyrical prose that leaves us, your readers, breathless. And thoughtful. And contemplative. And, in my case, in awe at how you do what you do. Some writer I am, I can’t even come up with the word I wanna say. Except thank you.
I had to read this twice; the second with Nathalie Merchant singing in the background. Perfect pairing. Why did I never get to know this singer?
Lotsa love,
Q
LikeLiked by 3 people
Q,
Beautiful lyrical prose that leaves y’all breathless, huh? And if it makes you contemplative, well . . that is the highest of compliments. Thank YOU.
And I’m glad, because I thought it was the perfect pairing as well. Natalie Merchant is great stuff, and this song is so haunting.
Lotsa love back,
B
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yep, yep and yep. You did all that.
I definitely have to get acquainted with her. This song is absolutely that.
MWAH!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yep and yep . . .
She did a lot of great stuff with the 10,000 Maniacs. And then more great stuff solo, as with this piece.
MUAH!
LikeLiked by 1 person
๐
I shall be exploring this music.
๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
You shan’t be disappointed! ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
If this (and Tara’s Sunday song choice) are any indication, I believe you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
She has such versatility, I think.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Marco,
The image of the mangled red tricycle and what it means won’t soon leave me. Stunning piece of writing. The video drives it home. I bow in your presence.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 3 people
Rochelle,
Thank you for that. All of it, and then some! And I loved that you and Dale both find the video to be a perfect pairing, because I did as well. You are too kind, and I’ll take every loving spoonful of it. ๐
Shalom,
Marco
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice piece of literary magic, Marc. You slay me with your talent.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Boss,
You charm, provoke and inspire me always. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the provoke part most of all.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I knew you would.
LikeLiked by 1 person
๐
LikeLike
It must be interesting living inside your mind. Well done!
LikeLiked by 2 people
George,
I will say this, there are no dull moments.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And thank you kind sir!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh those sunken ships and trashed tricycles. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldnโt be better to have amnesia (no, that wouldnโt do, would it?). Moving writing – moving video. Awesome!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eilene,
Sometimes you think it would be for the best, but then you know it just could never be that way.
Thank you so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great stuff. Very Cayman-esque. Fav lines: 1) Pristine in its sculpted image, nestled in between the living and the dead. 2) And I remember thinking it a tragedy of the highest order, and blaming the whole world and Jesus Christ. โฆ but blaming Obama would have worked.
LikeLiked by 1 person
LOL. Now, how did I forget Obama?
LikeLiked by 1 person
After all, it’s the easiest excuse for anything!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Harper and Machado STILL unsigned.
Thanks Obama!
LikeLike
You really do have your unique voice with your writing and excellent music to go with your thoughts – and really love Natalie merchant ๐ผ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! This video has received big love and I’m so happy to hear it because I love Merchant. Thank you for the sugary chime!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such exquisite writing. I don’t know Natalie Merchant. thanks so much for sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Deb,
Hey there lady, so happy to hear from you. I’ve ventured over to your realm for this one. I do believe it’s two Sundays in a row, and while I don’t know that it’ll happen every Sunday, I do so enjoy when the writing goes there.
Blessings, peace and love to you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well keep em coming Marc this was lovely …๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Deb. I left you a note on your wonderful piece as well. Have a great day! ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just read it honey thanks so much such a lovely compliment โบ
LikeLiked by 1 person
๐
LikeLike
I feel like a proud mama, like I helped birth this lovely post with my Sunday Song choice. I shall it read it again later and see what settles in my brain (then read it again…).
LikeLiked by 1 person
You should feel proud! I had a draft straggler happening and then your video pushed me in the direction . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
YOU’RE WELCOME! ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your description is so vivid I can actually ‘see’ that heap and experience the emotions it triggered.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Why thank you Monika. It certainly does bring me back to there, every time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, Marco, I really have no words for your magic. Such a moving piece. It makes me dig deep, it haunts, and it brings light.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Chi-town,
You are the sweetest, and thank you for the sugary chime. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
From the heart, man! Admittedly I had to go back and read it more than once, but that’s the best writing in my opinion.
Framing the sweet part, my people would pee themselves laughing over that one. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ella, you are stellar. I mean stellah.
Stellah Ella from Chi-town proper. Now that is righteous! ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Might have to put that on my business card!
Keep doing your thing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You do that. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
I read this earlier, but wanted to give it my full attention…the bad boys of the NFL.
The name that pops for me is Michael Vick. I have a friend who champions a rescue site for abused pits. The stories I truly wish I never heard, about these poor 4-legged souls tossed in a ring for amusement, could easily make me a vigilante. Mr. Prick, should be tossed in a ring with small dogs stolen off the street to tear apart like chicken parts to make him angry, and ornery so he can kill his opponent making some brothers rich.
I know there are others you wrote about, but for me, he’s the king of crime.
And to think he was such a lucky man to play pro ball, get paid such vast sums…be exalted and looked up to by young boys, especially those of color, who wanted to be like him.
SHAME SHAME SHAME
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was vehement about the fact that I thought Michael Vick never should have been able to step foot on a football field again. And when Philadelphia signed him and then tried to get ahead of all the clamor by claiming they were giving Vick, a second chance, I immediately began rooting against them. At the time, I referred to the Eagles head coach as a bastardized version of Father Flanagan.
And you’re absolutely right. To be able to play a kids game for all that money is a privilege. It’s not a right.
The powers that be would be ashamed of themselves. If they had any shame to give, that is.
LikeLiked by 1 person
HEAR HEAR HEAR HEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
HERE!
LikeLike
Love…all that money is a privilege. Itโs not a right.
LikeLiked by 1 person
True thing. We can’t argue away the fact this IS an economy unto itself in this day and age, after all. I mean, railing on about how these guys make hundreds of millions of dollars while teachers and firemen work second jobs ain’t gonna change the market fare.
So yes, the privilege should be taken more seriously. And to those who think me naive? Too fucking bad. Excuse my French. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Parlez vous away. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
I dig your style, thin girl.
LikeLike
PS Your vernacular and debate skills outshine mine, so I’ll be your cheerleader. I can still do a split and cartwheel. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Chief of Staff, remember.
And Holy Cat Woman you are one lithe kitty! I can do a split and a cartwheel too, but I don’t feel like spending the week in traction.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We could have a semi private room with The History and Sports Channel plus unlimited Wfi. Dale can come take pictures while Frank pipes in music and sneaks in fattening food. Think Bohemian Rapsody in a hospital setting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love that Frank is the fattening food sneaker inner. But he IS from the Midwest, so this is actually spot on. ‘Nother reason you’re a peach Chief of Staff.
They’re coming to take us away, to the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds . . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sigh
LikeLiked by 1 person
I would insert “Haha” right about here, but you’d just call me an easy laugh. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Iโll take a laugh any way I can get it. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re easy too, ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you OG!
LikeLike