Electric

Flying high past the grey skies, I go high up into the blue beyond,
the winds blowing in my hair and eyes.
I laugh as I fall upwards like an electric guitar sparkling and wild.

I sing loud with fingers and toes spread out imitating an eagle's roar
and pass above the buildings and trees below.
Nothing is stopping me now, it does not matter where I am going,

Or even where I have been, I have wings to keep me going,
don't call me, I am out of here, my high pitch screams
a song of freedom and soul repair.

Watch me, watch me falling upwards like a bullet in the sky
I am free, dancing high up here with the birds and clouds
and thunder, all is light and air around me.

Come up here with me, leave your fear behind, hold my hand
feel it tremble with the thrill of abandon as we laugh and cry,
soaring, soaring, free, strong, a burst of electricity here way up high. 


Trudi Ralston.
September 27th, 2014.

Bavarde

Voyons un peu, arrete-toi de parler , personne t'ecoute,
comme tu es bavarde.

Je suis heureuse, laisse-moi te raconter cette histoire tellement
amusante, comme j'ai rigolee, je te dis, on a passe un bon moment.

Mais vraiement, arrete de parler, tu m'embete avec tous ces mots,
personne t'ecoute, comme tu es bavarde.

Je me sentais si triste apres ce que lui est passee, ou elle trouvera
son courage, je ne sais pais, j'ai pleure de frustration, je n'en pouvais pas.

Tu parles encore, ca va pas non, arrete avec tous tes mots, tu me donnes
mal a la tete, personne t'ecoute, comme tu es bavarde.

La nuit, je fais des voyages, ou je retrouve des amis et des etrangers
qui m'ecoutent, qui me parlent, et je me reveille plein de joie et d'energie.

Quand je dors, tout le monde me parle, dans les villes et les villages,
on se rit, on danse, on se parle, et personne me dit que je suis
trop bavarde.

Trudi Ralston.
September 27th, 2014.

Roper Blues

Chemistry is a strange and fascinating thing. It affects attraction between people, or repulsion between them; cooking recipes and how they turn out cannot escape the importance of chemistry; chaos in its primal beginnings owes a continuing debt to chemistry. Humour too, seems a matter of chemistry. When I was in my twenties, a hilarious sitcom was a way to distract from the stresses of being a foreign student at TCU, it was called "Three's Company". A spin off was started in 1979, called "The Ropers", starring Norman Fell and Audra Lindley as the notoriously unhappy Mr. and Mrs. Roper, the landlords to the apartment complex were Jack ( John Ritter), Chrissy ( Suzanne Somers) and Janet ( Joyce Dewitt) shared an apartment in "Three's Company". The spin off with the Ropers only lasted a year, and it also starred the outrageously funny Jeffrey Tambor. Short lived as the spin off was, and thus unsuccessful, I became captivated by the character of Helen Roper, played by Audra Lindley. She plays an energetic, enthusiastic, intelligent woman trapped in a dusty marriage to a dull and self centered man, Stanley Roper, played very effectively by Norman Fell. Their marriage was kind of sad on "Three's Company", but on their own show, "The Ropers", the funny sadness takes on a deeper melancholy, one not devoid of a palpable existential flavour, that I found and find to this day, vaguely disturbing and unnerving. I am trying to figure out why. It is probable because my parents and my in laws both had such desperately unhappy marriages, full of frustration and stupor. Mrs. Roper fights so valiantly for every scrap of hope, laughter, joy, excitement. Her husband is not a bad guy, he is just a lousy match for her, and she for him. Lousy chemistry experiment gone sour. Perhaps that is why the show quickly failed. It was too real. Comedy is fun, because it makes us forget our trouble, it makes us feel better about them at least, because we can relate to the characters and their problems. But Audra Lindley is so good at her role as the frustrated Helen Roper, that she crosses the line over to our daily reality, walks right in to our living room, and sits down. And that makes us uncomfortable. Audra Lindley was too good, and we didn't like it, because her melancholy becomes our own, and ours becomes hers, and we can't swallow it, a matter of chemistry again. I always walk away feeling slightly nauseous from watching a rerun of "The Ropers", not because I think it is awful. Quite the contrary. I feel the same melancholy when I think of Anton Chekhov and his desperately sad plays. OK, I know, the comparison between the two is perhaps sacrilegious and absurd, but remember what the French say : "On se hate de rire , de peur qu'on ne pleure", "we hurry up and laugh, afraid we might otherwise cry". Humour and sadness go hand in hand, they are twins, separated at birth, and sometimes they remain uneasily co-joined, and we squirm with unease as we have to decide whether to laugh or cry at their predicament. I was sad to learn that Audra Lindley died of leukemia, a tragic end to a woman who was so full of determined laughter and energy. Here's to you, Mrs. Roper. Thanks for the sour mixed in with the sweet of the cocktails of laughs you left for us to sample and try.

Spider Silk

Tenuous bridges across shaky breaths and fingers
as the daylight fades into the shadow play of night.

I run into a spiderweb my eyes failed to see and struggle
to free my hair from its sticky threads, impressed with
her handiwork's effectiveness and strength.

I think of how with patience and cautious use of time
our friendship too, though invisible at first,
like a spider's silk, can grow strong to cling to fiber and heart.

Distance, and suspicion fading in the pattern of the sturdy web,
our connection grows slowly stronger, more rhythmic and sings
a muted but audible song, not unlike the excited moth nearing
the spider's home.

Resistance trembling as it flies into the spider's silk, my feet
walk towards the moment where you and I will meet,
afraid no more of the stranger to each other we might still be.

Spider silk will guide us, silently, patiently, onto that web
so beautiful that will bind us to its spell where a look, a smile
like a drumbeat will let us know the void has been traversed from two to one.


Trudi Ralston.
September 24th, 2014.
Friendship is a dance of chance, will, and in some cases, destiny.

Si par hazard

Si par hazard, sur ton chemin accelere
tu croises mes pas dans le sable et l'eau,
dis - moi bonjour avant de continuer ton voyage
sur cette terre.

Si par hazard, mon telephone sonne et j'entends ta voix
repose- toi un peu dans ma presence, raconte- moi un peu
de tes histoires et leurs circonstances, malheurs et joies,
fais- moi rire un peu.

Si par hazard, entre avions et horaires, tu as le temps
pour un cafe longue distance avec moi, n'hesite pas,
copain fidel dans le ciel electronique de nos correspondences,
au moins ta voix serait physique, concrete.

Si par hazard, tu as envie de chanter une chanson ensemble,
et oublier le chaos de la vie de tous les jours, telephone-moi,
peut-etre on sifflera quand on ne se rappelle plus les mots
d'un air populaire, " ce n'est rien, tu sais bien, le temps passe,
ce n'est rien", Julien Clerc nous aidera avec notre malaise.

Donc, si par hazard, sur le chemin des rencontres plus rares,
tu as le temps de stationner un peu ton sejour, appelle-moi et on pourrait
se rappeler la musique et les mots de notre amitie passee et futur. 

Trudi Ralston.
September 23rd, 2014.
pour un ami fidel, pour D.O.

Double Lining.

Sighs bouncing crisply like dry autumn leaves
fall onto my beating heart's soft path.

Folded into the pleats of my breaths, like a sleeping moth
at ease, my solitude quietly slumbers on.

Only once in a while does it stir and lets fear agitate its fragile wing
as I tiptoe away from the screams I cannot bear.

Double lining muffling the despair, I wait until the uncertainty fades,
and the pause button lets up, bringing movement back to its easy pace.

Few sleep with their goblins, a cautious friend said about me once.
I smile and walk towards the summer's sunny breeze.

After all, Geertrui, my Flemish name, does mean the brave one
with the spear. Fear is just a bit of spice mixed in with my story

and my dreams.


Trudi Ralston
September 11th, 2014.

Soft Shadows

There is a silence that hums like a well known song
when walking with a loved one down a well known road.

There is a kindness that remains mute like a pastel sunset
on a late summer night when clouds are whispers stuck gently on a dozing sky.

The familiar scent of you walking next to me, we are a family
and I can count on you, and I am there for you.

The heart has its own words, folded like soft shadows into the colours
of our souls'journey on this earth, so quiet, so strong, we hold on.

We are here, we are one, no words need to be spoken as we walk along.
You and me, us together in this simple song of a home where we belong.

Soft shadows, taking us where we need to to go, light guiding us
as we bravely stand together, closing rank on the darkness that now is far behind.

Soft shadows, soft eyes, blue and green, blending into autumn's call,
we walk, smiling towards tomorrow satisfied as the day turns to a peaceful night.


Trudi Ralston.
September 10th, 2014.
For my husband of 29 years, Michael, and for our 22 year old son, Nicholas.
 

The Stairwell

Dreams are an interesting window into our mind and its very stubborn efforts to come to terms with our existence 's quirks and inconsistencies, anxieties and frustrations. My dreamworld has always been very elaborate, and my dreams are like full length full colour Hollywood movies, incredibly detailed and peopled with both familiar faces and strangers. Last night was no exception. In my dreams I am always on foot, by myself, trying very hard to get "home", either to Roeselare, Belgium where I was born and lived until I was 19, or Austin, Texas, where I went to graduate school and met my husband. Last night I was trying to get to Brugge. That at least, was different. I have a niece that went to boarding school there, but other than that, no connections other than many a visit, of course when I  was growing up. In my dreams I often walk near highways, with fast traffic just roaring by me as I walk very determinedly wherever it is I think I am going. Often my parents are in my dream. My mother as a haughty, indifferent observer, my father as a concerned friend and helper. In the dream last night, my mother was super busy buying clothes with my sister Goedele and they both just brushed my pleas for help off irritably. My father tried, but had, as usual in my dreams very little power to effect any outcome or change. I was inside this huge university building, with dizzying tall staircases that had no railings, and made me very dizzy and afraid. I was trying to get to a geography class, and never did get there. So, I tried to get down the stair cases and manged to get back outside, where it turned out I was on the outskirts of Brugge. The streets were jam packed with people, almost to a panicky degree, which made me hide inside a quiet house. It turned out that it was the house of an artist, a Native American young artist, with a very calm face and flowing long black hair. He was painting watercolour pictures when I got to his house. My panic did not bother him at all, he just handed me some brushes and paint and a piece of paper and invited me to paint also, which delighted me and really calmed my anxiety. I felt at ease, safe, and that is where the dream ended.
Two days ago, I dreamed I could not find my husband and son, until they finally showed up walking next to me on this busy highway going into Austin, Texas. I was so glad to see them. And so relieved I did not have to deal with any staircases, as I did the following night. Some people would get upset at the intensity of the kind of dreams I have, but to me they have become an extension of my daily reality. A reality I feel at ease with and am intrigued by ,and that allows me an extended family of both friends and strangers with whom I have a story to live.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Spiders are amazing creatures. Resilient, determined, strong, incredibly athletic, hard working and patient. A few mornings ago when I was looking up at some geese flying overhead, I noticed a very nice spider web way up in a 50 feet tall evergreen tree in our back yard. I was stunned. Apparently spiders are also amazingly creative engineers, not intimidated by any challenge. From the bottom of the tree, to the top where the spiderweb was in all its splendor, seemed like if I was a spider, I had decided to start in Seattle and put up my spider web in New York. I was awed by the spider's incredible determination. It really cheered me up. I figured if a spider was able to be so focused and successful in its projects, I could certainly be optimistic,too. " The itsy, bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out...Out came the sun and dried out all the rain, and the itsy, bitsy spider climbed up the spout again..." I remember singing that song with my son's Kindergarten class. It is a great song about determination, resilience, strength, all qualities I really admire. Spiders are not deterred by their web being destroyed by wind, humans, rain. They just move over a bit and start over without moping around. They literally dust themselves off and get going again. Rather impressive when you have ever taken the time like I have to watch a spider build a spider web from start to finish. You would think she would say, well, the hell with this, I spent way too much time on this perfect web to start over again, like ever. No. That is not what happens. No self-pity, no ego wound, no anger, no sadness. Just get up and five, six, seven, eight, ... go! That is so cool. Of course, the standard response to my enthusiasm and appreciation for the spider is invariably, well, of course, the spider gets right back to building, it is instinct. All I can say is hooray for instinct. I hope mine gets me as far as that spider got. She sure makes me think and smile and try even harder.

Coup de Grace

Like water colour lines cannot hesitate
my heart beats steadily and does not
fear as shadow and light dance around
the path of life that is mine to walk.

You know my strengths, my weaknesses,
my struggles and my triumphs,
the tears that hide behind the ready smiles.
Yet you remain, a sentinel quiet and kind.

It is no easy task to love a stormy heart
to temper your insights, your command
and strength, you never waver or give in
to the easy way out, the mercy kill.

A friend on good days and bad, you walk beside me
and adjust your step to ease my own.
Like an ocean could easily drown the visiting seagull
and ignore its need for whimsy and gentle squall,

You stay your power and gently listen to my song.
You are a refuge, a comfort and a joy. You never claim
anything but the dignity and the hope we both can share.
I thank you for your patience as the years move on.

As youth surrenders to the slower rhythms of our seasons' life
your steady step along side mine brings time and again,
hope and purpose to a journey that often is not one of ease or apparent track.
Thank you, my friend, for being there, so far, so near, to help me count the stars

That you have helped me count on more than one otherwise bleak winter night. 

Trudi Ralston.
September 4th, 2014.

For all my faithful friends over the years, far and near.

Apres Toi - Vicky Leandros

It is always interesting how a song can trigger emotions we had not thought about in a long time. In 1972, the beautiful young singer Vicky Leandros, representing Luxembourg, won the Eurovision Song Festival with the song " Apres Toi ". I was 15, and the song sent shivers down my spine the first time I heard it. My adolescent heart was spell bound. I am not sure what made me think of the song all these many, many years later. I listened to it just this week, and it still has that spell binding effect on me. As it turned out, my heart's history can relate to the content of betrayed love on more than one level, considering my family history, for one. But the song also still draws me in, on a purely musical emotional level, which made me smile. The heart apparently does not age, even if the rest of us has no choice in the matter. When it comes to being moved at an early age by certain songs, it is almost a spiritual experience, like our heart knows ahead of time that it will be challenged, betrayed and broken, guaranteed, at one time or another, hence the chills down the spine. If we are lucky, our hearts also get to experience the happy side of love and life, as I have, and we feel the circle complete as our lives progress. In that sense, "Apres Toi " is a song that still moves me, but that now also brings a contented smile to my face. And I am grateful for that. Melancholy seems to be an inevitable ingredient as summer comes to an end and the first dry leaves start twirling down on a chilly breeze. So, I am grateful that as my life progresses that with the bitter is also the sweet, as I sing along with the sad and beautiful lines of the gorgeous song that moved me so deeply 40 years ago. "Apres toi, ... je ne serai que l'ombre de ton ombre... apres toi". I am glad I found my identity back, but there is no denying it was a hard and lonely way back to the sunny side of the street.