The Battle

Above ground frosty branches spreading it’s beautiful chill.

Below the surface fragile roots being cut off.

Under the skin, the sound of chains mouldering away by the pressure of the wings liberation.

The smell of salt water and air, as tempting as the call of the siren.

Tramp harder, feel  the remaining roots! Stay on the ground, save the power of your only weapon.

Soon the air will be warm and filled by the song of the birds returning.

 © Kristin Oladatter 2017. All rights reserved.

The Visitor -Heritage from a Father

The rare bird….Sometimes dropping in for a visit. Unexpected, briefly and rather intense. Like the storm she is -Sudden. A bit violent. I never see it coming. I’m never prepared. She’s just there. Taking command. For a short period of time turning my world up-side-down. Then, just as sudden as she arrived, she’s gone. Leaving me in surprise and confusion. A little bit of fear and anger even. Leaving me with all my questions – what just happened? Who was that girl that in such a short time made me do things that never before crossed my mind? Impulsive and thoughtless. Not thinking of the consequences of my actions?

It takes me a while. A day, maybe. Or two. Then I remember. The visitor was the girl you created. Strong and fearless. A girl that believed in herself. A girl that could do anything she ever wanted.
You gave that to her; all the confidence she needed to go out in the world and make things happen. Doubtless and fearless.

She’s almost scaring me now, these days. So rare she is. But despite that. Despite the confusion and fear she leaves behind I can also sense something else. Amusement?  Joy? Oh yes. There’ definitely a bubbling laughter deep inside. There’s definitely a little smile on my face.

I wish you were around to see her, you know. Would she still make you proud? Would you still believe in her?
Cause you know, she needs you to. Whenever she’s runnning out of faith. Whenever she hesitates, stumble and doubt she needs you to.

I can almost hear your voice -That’s my daughter. That girl can do anything she want’s.-

Yes, I am. Always!

Yes, I can. Sometimes!

©Oladatter 2016. All rights reserved

Deserted- In a Moment

There, at the end of the small dirt road to nowhere…. The deserted house. All covered in green you can hardly see it. A long time ago nature started it’s battle to retake all the parts it can possibly use.  Uninpeded it’s job can continue. No one is there to prevent it.

Half the roof has changed it’s location. From the inside floor, trees and plants are now growing, stretching towards the light from abowe where once the roof was.

In the bedroom  rats have been feasting on the mattresses in the untided bed. Some clothes left to dry still hanging there. During the years they’we been wet over and over again by the rain coming in. They no longer smells like a summer meadow. More like the rutten smell of a mire.

In the fireplace the parts of the  firewood not charred, are covered in moss.

If you close your eyes you can almost hear it; the drumming of small childrens feet on the floor….The sound of intimacy and Love from the bedroom.

Such a long time ago it must have been.

In a moment they were gone. Was it a happy moment? Did they have time to finish their coffee and say goodbye to their loved one’s?  We can only imagine.

But maybe not…..Cause in the backyard the old car is left to rust.

 

Copyright photos by ©IM Photo 2016 All rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happyland – a small travel Journey

”When do you feel happy?” You ask me.

”When I go to the Borderland” I say.

That’s the place between sleep and wakefulness. The place between dreams and reality.

Right there, beyond the rationally thinking. Beyond the restless and anxiety-provoking pondering. Far, far beyond all the fears and the need of control.. That’s where I find my peace of mind.

Have I told you that you can take me there?

When you are slowly stroking my skin with your warm hands…When your fingers are tenderly drawing through my hair. When you are that close; just there, in that moment….

That’s when I go there. To the Borderland. For a moment of Happiness.

 

That’s what you are. Giving. To Me.

 

All rights reserved. Copyright ©Oladatter 2016

 

 

 

Back Home

Moulder away, you heavy armors of Fear!

Fall down, you high walls of protection!

Open and feel, you blinded eyes and freezing hearts!

 

Come out, come forward, you great peace of Mind!

Show us your strength and your healing power.

And be the guide that brings all the lost souls back Home.

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All rights reserved. Copyright ©Oladatter 2016

 

 

A Tale from the living room floor – about the small things growing big

The house is breathing peace and quiet. My Man leisurely laying on the couch with his book. Looking satisfied and relaxed, he is.  Not taking any notice of me, lying here on the floor. Invisible and unimportant. To him. That book is so much more important. To him.

I know I shouldn’t be here. Not like this, on the living room floor. I’m not aesthetic correct, black and dirty as I am. And I don’t exactly smell like a summer meadow. I belong in the laundry.

He has no idea the time is already passed four…..

The front door is opened from the outside world. Shoes and jacket being left in the hall way. Then the feeling of a never ending heavy silence. A long dejected sigh…..And the storm is here. The explosion of loud and angry words:

Why am I laying on the floor? Why am I ALWAYS on the floor. One day in the living room, another day in the bedroom, the bathroom…. Or in any other room. Why am I always everywhere else than in the only place I belong, in the bloody laundry??! Why don’t you ever learn?

Angry footsteps approaching me. Fast and angry hands picking me up. Carrys me to the bathroom and throws me in the laundry. Then angry footsteps again. Another door…. And the quietness is back. Not as peaceful as a moment ago. But quiet.

From the bathroom shelf I hear a long relieved sigh from the toothpaste tube; puh, it wasn’t me this time.

But I know, tomorrow it may very well be the toothpaste tube. You see, it’s very hard to learn how to squeeze it on exactly the right place. Or it could be me. Again.

I don’t harm, lie or cheat.

I don’t drink, fight or kill.

I just don’t seem to be right, or belong everywhere. I may not look or smell so good all the time. But don’t  tell me small things can’t make a difference. I have the power to change everything just by being in the wrong place. I have the power to create thunder storms and change peace to war. Just for being me.

And I am not big at all……

I am, after all, just a pair of dirty stockings!

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All rights reserved. Copyright  ©Oladatter 2016 . Featured image by ©IM PHOTO