It fills me to the brim Spills over Leaks everywhere A flood, Once begun Now rages Beyond control, Rising, Soaking me To the bone, The very marrow LONGING…….. Better you than closed doors and Tidy feelings Better you, you, you…..
I look into his face So well loved I can trace every line Every scar And know the time that caused it Know every tiny detail The familiarity A daily blessing For despite the dread-full past He still lives And knowing what I know of him The more beloved he is Age and time ….our life A strange unexpected dream To be here now…. To be his wife
He sees me smiling Knows my thinking Remembering another Wedding Day I was reluctant then to say The words that bound me to him He pauses, looks down Collecting his emotions Then turns, faces me With a look of such intensity Remembering his promises He’s kept them Every one
SO MANY LAYERS TO THIS POWERFUL FINALE…. I see more, feel more, hurt more with each viewing, but there is beauty within the terrible….and terrible beauty.
NEVER MY LOVE….Plays on endless repeat, as I watch again and again.
So many evocative, traumatic, fierce, passionate, murderous, human, loving moments….the deep connection of family, whoever they may be.
“There’s been an attack on the ridge”, Jamie says. “They’ve taken Claire. We’re gonna get her back.”
He’s cold and methodical, preparing himself for war. Dressed in Tartan, he leaves the homestead as clouds of black birds fly from their night roosts, filling the skies with their cries. Tears leak,and chills creep up and down my spine as he runs to the highest point on the ridge, to light the fiery cross. The young men and the old gather….to go to war for him, for their Healer, Mistress Claire.
All is cruel brutality, as she and we escape to a refuge far away, where Jamie wraps her in his Tartan Plaid, says those very familiar words…. “Y’re shakin so hard it’s making my teeth rattle.” Never My Love a soothing respite in the background.
His shocked face, seeing her….bound, gagged, brutally beaten. But he knows….he of all people knows how this feels…..he can’t break down, instead he cuts her ties, holds her by the shoulders, tells her “You are whole…..you are alive.” Then with the greatest care, he wraps her gently in his plaid, lifts her up, carries her….and those powerful words echo in my mind…..
“A Bloodsoaked Adam, A Battered Eve.” DG
I cannot let go of this season, this episode…..So loving in its final moments, So deeply steeped in the strength of Family…..Who would not wish for the Warriors of Old. For their Strength and Courage in Battle. For their Honour, their Loyalty.
He sat there, an expression of fierce intensity on his beautiful face…. Waiting, waiting for an answer, as cigar smoke filled the air. Surrounded by the scent of finest Whisky and Leather….he waited, YES,” I said…..Whatever the question, the answer is “YES.”
Surrendering himself to his new bride’s touch He stands, his entire body yearning Almost melting into her But giving in, allowing As she slowly explores His strong, beautiful young body…..
And she…..glides slender fingers Across his skin, so slowly Delaying, extending her pleasure And his…. Until she turns, faces him Looks down, then up into his face His slanted dark blue eyes Her wanting matching his Sees him quivering with desire
She loosens the ties of her shift And he moves quickly Wraps strong arms around and lifts Carries her willing To their marriage bed Enters her then, pleasures her Until their voices cry out together On that night when first they wed.
I wake to the salty tang of it Dress quickly Breakfast can wait Already the pavement burns under My summer hardened feet It’s going to be hot Dropping my towell on the warm sand I run towards the sparkling waves Everything shimmers Silvery/Blue /Green In the morning sunlight Running in, diving, gasping With the shock of cold The taste of salt The slap of wavelets Against my skin……
The little Thrush worked tirelessly…..a Falcon had killed her mate and so she left the nest making swift forays to feed herself, never going too far away….. returning to her three speckled eggs. Then one day as she flew in and perched on the rim, the nest had changed…..one very large egg had been placed right in the centre. Her mothering instincts accepted the new egg, and she adjusted her body to fit the new shape….the largest egg a protruding lump, beneath her. Days turned to weeks….her life was difficult with no mate to feed her, but her only conscious thought was the protection of her eggs…..all of them. They cheeped to her as she sat, her soft belly feathers a constant protective warmth around them….she spoke back, bending her neck, turning the eggs with her delicate beak, mothering.
One by one they hatched, three perfect replicas of herself and her mate, and one huge exception. Now finding food on her own took her all day. The largest chick was insatiable, greedily pushing in, taking from the others. The little mother was barely eating herself, her body just soft brown feathers and fragile bones. Each return to the nest, there was one less Thrush baby, but driven by instinct she kept feeding the remaining chicks….feeding the interloper.
The days passed, Spring turned to Summer….exhausted from the constant search for food, she landed, crop filled to feed her nestlings as dusk descended on the day. One chick remained, the Cuckoo …..beak opened, its voracious appetite demanding, as she disgorged her feed into its gaping beak.
The Cuckoo outgrew the mother, pushing her aside in the nest with vicious little pecks, yet still she flew back and forth, feeding it. It grew flight feathers, sat on the rim of the nest flapping its wings, hopping back and forth with tiny practise flights, constantly pecking the small mother, as it grew bigger, stronger.
And then one sunny summers day, it flew….bold and strong, straight out through the protective cover of branches into the flight path of the same Falcon, who seized it with strong talons and carried it away to feed its hungry nestlings.
The little thrush sat quietly on the rim of the nest, preening her feathers. Nearby, she heard the soft siren call of a male. He flew back and forth, courting her and in the fullness of time, she left the nest behind….flew with him to a secret glade far, far away, to begin again.
He stood before me At the old church door A vision of such splendour I forgot every promise I’d made before This moment
Strength, beauty, kindness, grace All made clear On his beautiful face In this moment….I forgot my fear My misgivings The husband I’d left only weeks before I forgot my past life Walked up to the door And as he took my arm As he led me inside All I wanted in this moment Was to be his bride
The cuts were deep The blood flowed free The ties that bound us Soaked and bloody I looked up into his clear blue eyes Down at the linen binding ties And cared not for what may come Or what was left behind In this moment I am his He is mine
In this moment Before the Altar Of the new Gods and the Auld I surrendered the past Knew In my soul I was bound to him This would be my last My one, my only love My kin
In this moment In this Sacred place In the eyes looking back at me In his beautiful face
Mine, His There is only this Unexpected Unwanted Unwilling Back then Yet, here, opening up to him There is only this This Holy tie that binds As the Priest intones You my kiss your bride In this moment
I give myself to you now As bloods drips from the ties That bind our vow He is my husband I his wife Bound body and soul Bound for life
Nothing exists Between us now But this This Endless Moment