From Mesmairda to Ofailia, Letter the Third

Dearest Ofailia,

I bumped into an old friend of yours today while I was out antiquing and I had to write to you immediately!

It was Jean Claude, you remember Jean Claude I’m sure, as you have the most exceptional memory. Now don’t even think of objecting to that, Dear, you know it’s true! Honestly I don’t really know if I should even be telling you this, but I have to think of you, my own Dear niece, above anyone else! Excepting Jericho of course, but you understand I’ve had him for such a very long time.

It was most alarming the things she said, so I must tell you, no matter the consequences to my own health and safety! You know me Ofailia, and you know that I care nothing for myself! I am the least selfish person, but you won’t ever catch me admitting to it, I can tell you that now! People try and tell me what a saint I am, but it’s all nonsense Dear, you really shouldn’t believe the public. They have a tendency to idolize me, you know, and it really isn’t healthy. I do sometimes wish that they would find someone else to adore!

Well, anyway! To get straight to the point, and just remember, Dear, that I am only the messenger, none of these words are mine, except for the ones that are, all the rest came straight from the mouth of Miss Jean Claude, and I would never even begin to think of thinking about believing them!

She said, and I quite directly quote, “I heard that your Ofailia was ailing!”

Then I gasped, Ofailia, just gasped in astonishment! I knew straightaway that it was all a monstrous falsehood, just an entire heaping load of codswallop, because I know for a certainty that if you were ill you would write and tell me immediately! You are contractually obligated to do so, ever since that catastrophe a few years ago that I will only allude to for I know how out of sorts it makes you when it is mentioned.

And so I told Miss Jean, “Why that’s impossible! Ofailia would tell me if she were ill, she’s contractually obligated to do so!” 

“But I heard it from a very reliable source!” Miss Jean said. I tell you right now Ofailia, I couldn’t believe the cheek! How she could disbelieve me of all people, and concerning your health of all things, when I, of all people should know the truth better than any other living soul! Oh I could have done something very drastic I was so full of indignation. And I her elder too! But of course, I turned the other cheek, Dear, you needn’t worry about that. I would never act out and bring shame upon the good old family name. Not in a million years, not if you held a gun to my head, not even, Ofailia, if what I’m about to recount were really true, which of course it isn’t. Please pardon me using it as an example, but now you know just how serious I am about the besmirching of the family name. I would never allow it! No, no, I grinned and I bore it most triumphantly, you’d have been very proud to see me taking the high ground, while Miss Jean was down so far she was nearly invisible from my pedestal. You might even have shed tears, it was such a worthy performance! I’m sure the lady at the other end of the isle did while she examined an old owl clock, for I’ve no doubt she was listening into the conversation the whole time and the clock was merely a ruse so I wouldn’t suspect she was an eavesdropper. So moved was she by my performance I am quite certain that I saw her wipe away tears once or twice, and for that reason I didn’t mind if the good lady cared to listen in. In fact I spoke a little bit louder so she wouldn’t have to strain her ears so much. I know without a doubt that she appreciated it.

“What source is that then?” I asked, inwardly scoffing, for I knew it all was nonsense. I should explain to you now Ofailia, as to avoid any confusion, that I was wearing my pale yellow sundress with the lace at the hem and my delicate pink shall, the one with the elegant tassels, and I had finished off the ensemble with my white silk hat with the little blue flowers adorning the brim.

“What source is that then?” I asked and Jean had the audacity to reply, “Why, Ofailia herself!”

I could have slapped her. How dare she lie to me like that! Still, I could not let on that I knew her game, so I played along.

“Oh dear!” I cried, most convincingly affecting shock. “What does she have?”

“Well I can’t remember the scientific term she used, but she called it ‘Weeping Blisters’. I saw them myself, they were great oozing blisters on her chin, she had to keep wiping at them with tissues to keep them from dripping down. I could just see inside her flat and the floor was so covered with used tissues that the carpet was no longer visible!”

After I let her get so far in her narration I could not hold it in any longer. What a ridiculous lie to spread about you! Who knows how many people she’d told about this fictional, and very unpleasant sickness, supposedly affecting you! What a disgrace it would be for people to be thinking you had Weeping Blisters! Are they even real? I’ve certainly never heard of them! So embarrassing, so shameful! I wouldn’t take another word of it, and I said so.

“I won’t take another word of this, Jean!” I cried, scathingly leaving out the “Miss”, and I know she felt the string of it. “I will not have you circulating lies about my Ofailia. You should be sent to prison for it, and if I can do anything about it, you will be!” By the end of my dignified little outburst her mouth was hanging agape in the most stupid manner, and I couldn’t help it Ofailia, but I gave her a very powerful look of disdain. You know an old beau of mine used to say I looked extraordinarily beautiful when I was being disdainful. Even more so than usual. Of course that was all nonsense, but I do like to think I looked quite lovely anyways.

“Good day!” I cried, and I swept out of the shop, my delicate pink shall with the elegant tassels fluttering gracefully like the wings of a great eagle behind me. I know it was wrong of my to fly off the handle so, and perhaps I overreacted slightly when I declared she should go to prison for her lies, but I know for certain I shall never be inviting her to my Sunday tea parties again, which is an opportunity she will weep to miss, I can tell you! And she will certainly never be getting my holiday gift of hand crocheted doilies in various ethereal shades of pastel!

And don’t you worry your pretty little head about those rotten lies that have been told about you. I wrote seventeen dozen letters in my very nicest calligraphy on the stationary left over from my old job (you know I have an entire room of it piled high to the ceiling. Do let me know if you want any of it Dear, I really don’t mind sharing a few leafs), and I scented the notes with lilac. They explained how it was all a terrible falsehood, and you know how good my word is to these people, they practically revere it, and I made it clear that you in no way have any ailment that involves the weeping and oozing of blisters on your chin or anywhere else besides! So there isn’t a thing for you to worry yourself about, Dear, I’ve taken care of everything. After I’ve finished up this letter I’m going to hand deliver every one of them to all of my personal friends, so that not one of them will be deceived by the lies scandalously spread about you and your chin. This whole thing will just fade away. By next week not a single soul will remember it, I am quite sure!

I’m very sorry this letter has been so rushed, but I am anxious to get these notes out, you understand. I will write you another letter tomorrow, and I will be sure that it fills up at least twelve pages to make up for this one!

Yours affectionately,

Aunt Mesmairda

For

5/08/10

Scattered to the four winds,
we were forewarned but forgot,
and we thought we’d forgo
listening for once.
We couldn’t stay in the foreground,
for forces unforeseen,
we were forced to forfeit
all the plans we were forming.
Fortunately we were fortunate,
though the foreigners forbade us beforehand,
we formed the fortunes we foretold,
and they forgave us formally.
We forestalled the forecast,
But we couldn’t foresee the forest ending
And we were afforded no mercy.
First and foremost our foresight was clouded,
and for all we’d forsworn
we foresaw nothing,
and we forgot on whose forbearance
we got to form these foraged words.
A forcefully foreboding wind,
foreknown to all but us,
gave us but a foretaste
of the forged form of former trust.
For the fortress fell, formless,
and the forlorn forthwith died,
so we forwent further fortnights,
spent forwarding our lies,
and for just the one forenoon
we were forgiven all our crimes.

Don't Stay In Bed

4/08/10

The wind sang light and lilting tunes,
Amidst the eerie, midnight gloom
And in the glowing of the moon,
I sat and thought a while.

What luminous thought did ignite
While I shunned the darkened respite?
I could wish naught but to stay up all night
And listen all the while.

And what could be as I looked aft
But a single, glimmering, shining shaft
Of silver light, and a ghostly laugh,
I sat, riveted, all the while.

Oh, sleepers, long have we slept
In our pillow’s downy depth.
The night longs for our airy step!
We could walk a while.

Dreams flit through that sleeping head
But to be awake instead!
Really, why would you stay in bed
When whispering secrets to the stars
And the lofty moon afar,
We could dance through shadows dark,
In living dreams all the while?

No Matter How Mundane

1/26/10

“The houses all look the same.” I said;
all the perfect lawns were brown with lack of rain.
Even the trees in the lane were identical,
each limb and leaf equally symmetrical.
He looked at me and smiled grimly.
“You’ll get used to it.” he said, quite simply.
Duplicate rows of houses too aloof to be called homes,
duplicate faces, too detached to get to know.
Yet the summer waxed and waned
and nights did come can go, but still they looked the same.
I pleaded, “Say anything, no matter how mundane.”
He said, “Those clouds look an awful lot like rain.”

Fly Away, Logic, Fly Away

3/10/09

Figuratively speaking, my logic’s flown away
Which is why my head doesn’t stay any longer in one place.
You see so long I had it caged, in a dark corner of my mind
Where I’d take it out now and then to get some exercise,
But on it’s leash it got restless and it kept trying to escape,
So who was I to argue if it didn’t want to stay?
I tried to reason with it at first, but it used its wits against me
(Which wasn’t very hard since without it I was unconvincing).
It told me I was wasting its natural abilities
By waving it off and not listening to anything it was saying,
And I had to agree, that when thinking logically
Logic wasn’t really all that necessary.
I had my doubts at first, of course, just like anybody would
But after long deliberation, (and thinking as rationally as I could)
I came to the conclusion, that when viewed in the presented light
Logic aught to be free, without me hindering its flight.
So I released it from its leash, and I opened up its cage
And after a mutually teary goodbye
It departed out the window, and I whispered
“Fly away, Logic, fly away.”

The Harbor

12/06/08

The harbor winds played foreign tunes to those which I was used to,
Whispering songs that to me were unknown, about places they had passed through.
Lightly they swept across the land with weathered fingers and gentle hands
Bringing tales of sorrow and joy, along with rain now and again.
I remember they smelt of evergreens and something like peppermint
And I often imagined from where they had come, and where they were going next,
Such mystery they carried in their abrasive, gentle grasp,
They disturbed the land with secrets, but I never dared to ask.
With fluid grace they danced upon the surface of the earth
Leaving nothing behind unchanged and leaving no blade of grass unstirred.
Like tongues of cool fire, they played against my skin
And I swear I felt the things they’d touched in the places they had been,
But one day they blew gently to the dock a little ship,
And from that day on I never felt the harbor winds again.

How Far We've Come

8/12/08

Words misconstrued as they find themselves spoken
Sentences, phrases, they leave our lips broken
Memories sleep and are never awoken
If they open their eyes, cover them, cloak them.
The city lights mock the stars in the sky
And the good disappear behind enemy lines
Convinced we are better, convinced by our lies
We sit back and watch while everything dies.
Fill our lungs with fire and let ourselves burn
The smoke climbs higher and we never learn
Turning to ash, we’re never concerned
And as we grow older we all get our turn.
An infectious disease eats us out of our homes
But haven’t we always said that we’re best on our own?
Our fears stand by till night leaves us alone
Then they take shape, and we hate what they know.
The dust in the air leaves it hardly worth breathing
Reality shows us we’re better off dreaming
Runaway from our problems, it’s easier retreating
Let’s just close our eyes and pretend we’re not bleeding.