The Note Good morning, Mariella Song, I hope you are sleeping peacefully, wherever you are! As for myself, I have been working since five yesterday afternoon, although I feel a little fraudulent calling it working, as you better than anyone knows it is more a labour of love than proper work. Thankfully Im not labouring at the moment but still it is time now for a little stretch, a cup of tea and some staring at the sea before I have to go. Im a night owl these days, Ella, but when I am in the groove I find I dont need much sleep day or night; or much of anything else for that matter. Perhaps creativity is simply a form of mania, which thankfully for the afflicted has a productive output occasionally deemed worthy of praise. After all beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and what separates the splotches of a Rothko, or the meanderings of a Joyce, with the spatterings of a decorators dust sheets, or the smatterings of a logorrheic, except the eye of the beholder? Ella, you above all people know how I believe that we are all born free spirits. We learn to kiss before we can say I love you, beat rhythms with a spoon before we can feed ourselves, learn to sing and dance before we can walk and talk, paint pictures before we can hold a brush, draw as soon as we can clutch a crayon; act, tell stories, imagine. Perhaps thats why our icons are almost always creators and trophy hunters — boys and girls who never stopped singing and dancing; never stopped dressing up and acting, never stopped kicking balls and jumping walls; running and playing games. Meanwhile the rest of us are efficiently processed into consumer driven, factory fodder before we even escape school; the lucky ones among us having the brief respite of a few bohemian years of college to cling to as we get older and wiser, tighter and bitter; ever more disenchanted with what we have and ever more regretful for what we might have been if only wed dared to imagine. Maybe thats one reason why we are born knowing how to cry, but have to learn to laugh. Perhaps that’s where it all began to go wrong. Ella, do you ever think of the first time we made love? I do. All the time. That day we went exploring the North County in Biddy’s backfiring old Beetle, looking for the place where cruel Cu Chulainn courted Emer. We found it too, in the end; sat and ate our bred and jam with a Martello Tower for shade, looking out across the blue at green Lambay. No Cu Chulainn I, but I must confess I wanted to take you there and then among the long grass where once he ran amok, felling the men of Forgal the Wily like wattle reeds before carrying off a blushing Emer, despite her father’s dying pleas. But like I said, no Cu Chulainn, I. Afterwards we ended up on Red Island, a beautiful evening for standing outside a bar, and Venus glowing ‘neath a rising crescent moon, salmon pink from the setting sun. There must have been more than a hundred fishing boats hunkered down on the harbour, all softly clinking like ice cubes. I remember us taking off our shoes and walking along that slender rim of beach towards the Hoar Rock. I can still feel your hand warm in mine, the sand cool between my toes. Nineteen Eighty-Seven long gone now. Never forgotten. And it was magical to stand outside Joe Mays, Ella; just you and me, and the whole place to ourselves on warm Wednesday night in Summertime. The summers since have flown like a startled flock and though the night is long and life is short, that summer seemed to last forever, thank God. The paradoxical passage of time, I suppose. And although Im older I dont feel all that different than those years ago: still open to suggestion; still hoping to walk barefoot across the sand with you again. In this life, or the next. I only had two glasses of red because I was driving, and it is as well we were standing because if we had been sitting I might have been sleeping. We got home four minutes after twelve and I thought the opportunity had passed me by again, because even though Biddy was away in Knock that May, I was too dog tired to brush my teeth, never mind think about how to get you undressed and into bed; and worried that Id be asleep before you and that you would be lying there wondering how and why. But then you looked me in the eye, not tired nor shy, and stretched your arms, and said I’m tired Solomon: take me to bed. And we kissed and held onto one another tight, skin on skin; my eyes on you, drawing heat to your cheeks: your eyes on me, lambent pools as they alighted on my skin; watching me gazing at you between kisses as I stroked the smooth, warm softness of your skin. But before I could muster the courage you fell asleep and I, fatigue forgotten, lay there wide eyed and yearning. So while You slept I watched over you, and admired you in all your glory, then wrote you a poem; and when at dawn you finally yawned and woke; I kissed your lips and placed it in your hand, and watched breath baited as you read it and wept. And afterwards you said nothing, just clung to me so close and tight and made love to me like we were the only people on earth; the first and the last, and without us there would be no future, could be no past. And there we stayed, tender skinned and bare, making love like lions until hunger drove us from our lair for a bite to eat. Do You remember that poem Ella? I do. Off by heart, as the saying goes. Ella’s Song The Lover sings the praises of his Beloved How beautiful my, One True Love More lovely than the rising sun Your eyes so gentle like the dove Watch over me, most precious One So mild and bright, yet so farseeing Let me feel your heartbeat from above Instruct my innermost being And fill me with your zealous love Your sleek hair, swathes of finest satin Flows smooth and dark as moonlit river Such fragrant aromas bathe my skin May they soothe my senses, now aquiver Your teeth more white than precious pearls Foraged from deepest, bluest sea Each one so fine lustrous their shine May they always gleam when You see me Your luscious lips red ribboned silk That bind my soul to your soft kiss Each nourishes like honeyed milk And sends me soaring beyond bliss On either side of your sweet mouth A bouquet for a blushing bride Your cheeks, like blossoms facing south So soft and warm and smooth inside Your neck is like an Ivory tower Unbreachable in majesty May it seek my kisses every hour May it always be my sanctuary Your bosoms fair as unicorns And trembling with your every breath Behind perfect arms they hide their charms Like twin fawns resting at Sunset May your belly be my place of ease Skin so soft and smooth as cream I’ll lay my head and feel at peace Your hips the orbit of my dreams Your legs like palm trees long and sleek Like vines they wind and bind my mind You stand so strong and fair yet meek The foremost of all Womankind My darling soulmate, lover, bride You thrill my heart, fill me with pride Your love is a fountain an eternal spring A mountain of Myrrh Where I want for nothing Your tongue a dripping honeycomb More intoxicating than finest wine In your garden I shall make our home For you have seasoned my heart with spices divine And so my Love, at dawn of day Amid shadow play and soft starlight I will scale Love’s mountain to drink from your fountain Taste the fruits of your garden And be your delight Inspired by the Song of Songs, Chapter 4 And the Woman of my heart and hopes and dreams And I was your delight, Ella, wasn’t I? As you were mine. And I think we had more than most and I never wanted for anything when I had you, Ella, and I love you still and I always will, and for better or for worse Ella, nobody can erase the past, and while I wish in part that wasn’t the case, still I take great consolation from the knowledge that it means that no one or nothing can take away the times we had, and we had times, Ella. Such wonderful, extraordinary times. We loved. We lived. We were real. x Nothing Remains to be Said. Solomon The Note by Jonah Hopskin (c) 2014. Read more about Solomon and Ella in Grace Notes, in turning page ebook format via the following link: jonahhopskin.me/ If viewing on a smart phone the simplest method of turning pages on the website is to tap the bottom right hand corner of the page to go forward, bottom left to go back. Thank you for reading my work. Please help me to build my readership by liking, following and sharing my Posts and Page. 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Posted on: Sat, 05 Jul 2014 19:37:30 +0000
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