Bordeaux Bay

Bordeaux Bay
Watercolour by Tony Taylor

Wednesday, 13 May 2015


The subject of loneliness is one that intrigues me. 
It probably affects all of us at one time or another, whether as a result of imposed or elected solitude or, as can often be the case, in consequence of finding oneself alone in an unhappy relationship or a crowded room.
Sylvia Plath wrote: So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them. 
Here's a short vignette about isolation and loneliness.


This guy I knew back then, he hurt me, but when he left he gave me singing birds, two of them: beauties, real pretty. I named them for my folks, Jim and Em. 
They’re both long gone, my Mom and Dad: died when I was young, but I remember them. Good Christian folk who probably got their own wings now, up there in Heaven with the Lord.
They sing to me, my pretty birds, and I sing back to them: songs without proper words, just crazy tunes that come into my head.
I don’t go out these days. I stay indoors to feed my birds, clean out their cage, and some days I sit all day long and watch them while they preen and groom each other. Jim and Em: my pretty birds that never fight or squabble.
Nobody comes to visit now and I avoid neighbors. With nosy folk, I disengage, back off, then shut the door. 

It’s best that way, just me and the birds.
Here I reside. Five floors above the sidewalk in a nest of sky: me and these flightless birds that sing so sweet and never say a word about my face, the scars, my sightless eye.

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