The Stars Above, the Stars Below

NOTE TO READERS

I have checked with Arielle and she says it’s okay to write a story in verse. That was how this one presented itself to me. Still not sure how well it works, but thanks for your patience! Debbie

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The harbour lights reflect in night-dark waters, boats, never wholly at rest

sway and dream of distant shores, and moon-tinged ripples crest

and fall and dance, and other lights, lights distant beyond distant cast

their gleam upon the waters, lights shining from million years past.

A night of neither storm nor calm, and neither cold nor warm,

and there is neither stillness nor the threat or promise of a storm.

A woman stands and waits, and tarries, by the harbour wall,

seeing all, above, below, intently, seeing not at all,

or seeing with the sharp and softened vision of the inner eye

The dark shining waters and the dark shining sky,

somewhere on the horizon, somewhere within her heart they blend,

and she thinks, it is beginning, and it will never end.

She is young and with the hopes and dreams of clear eyed honest youth

sees the sky and starts, moonlit water, silvered ripples, and the truth

that she is loved and he will come, that she is loved and she must wait,

gaze at the stars and harbour lights, gaze and never sate

herself on the lights above, the lights below, the lights within,

She feels the surge of something sweet, senses it begin.

The harbour lights don’t need to shine, for dawn has broken now,

and still she waits beside the wall, still she recalls his vow,

“I will be with you, love,” he said, “Before the morning tide,

You will be in my arms, my love, I will be by your side.”

Slowly she walks to the town, words will remain unspoken,

she dare not utter those words Dawn and his vow are broken.

The quayside’s busy now, for it is the middle of a sun-bright day,

and the woman stands there, older now, watches children at play.

watches her son and daughter, keeps them safely within reach,

and calls out, bright and motherly, “Let’s picnic on the beach!”

And so they leave the bobbing boats, from near or distant lands

and they run down to the beach, and eager children tug her hands.

It has turned out for the best, she thinks, hearing the children’s chatter

This is my real life, and they are the ones that matter,

I chased a fantasy, no more, no remnant of reality at all

As I gazed up at the stars then, standing by the harbour wall,

Life is good to me, and all, from that day onwards went to plan

I have two lovely children, I have a caring, decent, honest man.

No time now for daydreams about what might, or might not have been,

Time for me to be grateful, time for me to be content, serene,

Time to let it go, to cut it free, cast it from me, to let it drift

Time for a foolish girl’s dream life to clear, see daylight, lift,

For he cannot have loved me. This cannot, must not be denied,

and he never came to join me, came before the morning tide.

The sun is setting, sinking, evening’s colours blend and touch, unfold,

and paint the twilight waves with purple, crimson, silver grey and gold,

It shimmers on the waters, and the last, flickering colours shimmer, fall

They cast their rainbow rippled shadows across the harbour wall,

cast them over the sea, cast them over the waves that swallow them, seem to delight

in the mantle of their spectrum at the doorways of the night.

The woman’s standing there, at the ending of a sunlight filtered day,

she is older now, her once raven-winged hair is turning grey,

But still her sight is clear, and still her mind pulsates with thoughts,

of a thousand shifting shades, spectra of a million, mingled sorts.

He was a good man she thinks, a good man, faithful, kind, and true,

and with all my heart, I hope he never knew,

Never knew I waited, wept, wept just once beside the harbour wall,

for that other one, the one who did not come, who never came at all,

but inside there was still weeping, inside, despite myself, something drew

me to him, to what might have been. I hope, oh how I hope he never knew,

I hope he never sensed it, for I could not have denied

that I waited for another who would come, come on the morning tide.

The harbour lights are lit now. The stars are lit, the two, billions of miles apart, combine,

and dance on high, and dance below, and as if in a magic mirror, shine

and countershine, and the universe itself seems paused, just for a minute,

just for a life, and all that was, and could have been within it,

Stars make their sea-dance, twinkle on the surface, in the deeps,

The double moon a silvered vigil keeps.

And then, in one eternal heartbeat, suddenly,

she hears a louder ripple cutting through the sea,

she hears a voice come from the past and, at first distant, call,

as she stands, sees stars above, below, leans on the harbour wall,

She knows the voice, a voice from decades, from a life ago,

but it’s one she can’t forget and one she’ll always know.

The boat draws nearer, rope is thrown, expert, exact, ashore,

practical work to do: a craft to tether, to secure,

with movements swift and neat and by an expert hand.

Now it is done. And he steps onto land.

There is no magic potion, there is no kind of spell,

His hair is grey too. He has aged, as well.

She hesitates. She looks into that once and still familiar face,

there’s no instant grand gesture, no encompassing embrace.

She says, “You did not come. I waited, waited hours, and hid myself away, and wept,

for a girl’s stupid illusion, for a promise made, and then not kept,

And found a good man, decent, loving, steadfast, kind,

and left my quayside fantasies where they belonged, behind.”

He speaks, “I could not help it. I did not mean to desert, deceive,

and I don’t deserve your love, don’t expect you to believe,

I envy the man who deserved you, I bear him no ill will,

Can you ever believe me if I say, and mean each word, I love you still?”

He told his tale, one of being called overseas, one of the country’s defence,

and she listened, then believed, then felt something stirring, intense,

Said, “But later, with the battle fought, the danger past,

you could have tried to contact me, you could have come at last,”

His silence, eloquent, tells her that even now, talk of it is hard,

For some battle scars heal. But still he was charred, changed, battle scarred,

He tells her that he never wed, she tells him she’s a widow now,

adding, “A word that makes you sound so old, somehow.”

He says, “We both are older now. But here, and standing on the quay,

and looking at the stars above, the stars below, I see,

That young girl in your eyes, see something sorrow-dimmed, yet bright,

and with the daybreak dawning through the shadows of the night.”

And she saw the buoyant boy, saw past the soul’s dark scars,

and looked above, below, and they both looked at the stars.

Now it was time to embrace. Now it was time to enfold,

and though they were not young, all at once, they were not old,

The stars shone in the sky and the stars shone, echoed, in the water’s rise and fall,

and ripples gently breaking against the harbour wall,

He had seen life at his darkest. He had travelled far and wide,

now he had come back to his love, come with the evening tide.