Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child.
What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.
One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.
Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well.
Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did.
The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly.
It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.
Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her.
She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side.
When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through.
She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world.
Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day.
But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience.
Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil.
Wish to be there, so you see dear, my notes just right.
You’ll treasure my words, piercing thought.
Can I reach through your veil, you’re aloft.
Stuck inside, where I cannot reach.
No silence but song, I beseech; sign of love sought.
Dusk, lingering in your splendor,
Hope you’ll hear my words crescendo.
Problems arise when you see how I sing,
For I am deaf, my songs hand signs ring, my concerto.
Please my love, notice me noiseless,
Signs speak my ardor voiceless.
You gaze through me, my pretty face.
Your chosen love’s voice has no grace; my signs joyful.
The Florette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more 4-line stanzas.
Rhyme scheme: a,a,b,a
Fourth line requirement of internal (b) rhyme scheme, on syllable 8.
Like the outgrowing of a small flower, the forth line of each stanza is longer, and enwraps the previous lines. Line #4 requires an internal rhyme scheme that rhymes the eighth syllable with the end of line #3, and continues to add on four more syllables than the other lines so that the fourth line ends rhyming with lines #1 and #2.
Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. I skipped the prompt about geeking out for now. But am going to write about today’s prompt on friendship. My view in my poem today is that even though friendship is excellent, there are times it is frustrating.
I know all my friends are out,
And I’m stuck inside.
I know we’re true adults now,
I still feel left out.
As if I wasn’t living life,
As if I’ve missed so much to time.
Conversations and memories,
I was never privy too.
Maybe I’ll never grow up,
Maybe a job high up isn’t so vital.
I’m making life up as I go,
It’s the best I can do,
I wish sometimes you understood,
It’s extremely difficult for me sometimes,
Not only dealing with what life throws at you,
But trying to work through problems,
Going through a veil, more like a brick wall —
Cancer is killing my friend,
I don’t know if she knows,
How wonderful a friend she is to me,
And I don’t know why but she always,
Floods the room with her beautiful light.
She has cancer and yet,
Her energy level is much better than mine.
I don’t know how to make my best friends understand,
They do, but sometimes,
They don’t see anything at all.
Two hours in, needing to sit down and not move,
Having eaten two pieces of cake,
One I shouldn’t have eaten.
Brought the hostess wine,
Do all the right things to be a gracious guest.
But rarely, do I feel ‘in’ on all the things going on.
I don’t know that feeling anymore,
I’m used to friends talking around me,
My mind fading in and out.
I try to pay attention, all the hours I’m out,
Don’t treat me as a child, like I can’t handle life.
Like I can’t handle honest words and your normal lives,
Mental illness is a bitch and people have little thought,
Of what you’re working past.
People may think things,
At this point I assume my besties understand my battle,
But maybe they don’t understand?
Maybe it’s still a disease people feel uncomfortable about,
Because they’re grown up into adults with jobs.
They have kids and careers,
They’ve the normal life.
I’m at home after years, fighting to have energy,
Writing writing, who picks that as a career?
But my dreams live and drive me forward.
No matter if my story is polished and presentable,
I make myself impeccable.
Nice hair and makeup,
Cute clothes for my size,
Trying to be thin, like most of them,
Pretty as them, but more width to my hips.
Striving for someone to take interest in me,
Not feel I’m doing nothing with my life,
Ask questions about me and be curious,
Just as I am curious about your life.
Don’t talk over me,
I know you all have your own fights,
Cancer the biggest I believe right now.
I wish because of it, you’d understand me more too.
I’m launching myself forward,
But I must move to a slower pace.
I don’t want to lose my best friends,
I don’t want to be the only one who feels,
We need to stay in touch.
An attractive guy would be nice,
A listener, a toucher, a hockey game lover.
I’d love a dog and our own condo,
No debt, and the ability to exercise well.
All these things I want,
With boundless energy,
No more worry about what my friends think of my illness.
Just like them, normal.
I want safety in his touch,
Seeking closeness with him and equality.
Connected to me, he’s not half-treating me,
As of I’m forever a spoiled kid,
Just because I need a ride.
Because I’m not well enough to drive.
Themes that under lie my life at times,
Girls looking above me, raising their noses,
Not knowing I fly in stars and midnight showers of rain.