Jamieson Wolf
Aurora Award Nominated Author
Monster for Love – A Poem
When I awoke,
my body felt
as if it had been broken
and sewn back together,
only the pieces of my body
weren’t all mine.
My body was re-created,
three pieces came together
to make a whole.
They whispered their names,
these smoky others,
and I could hear them speaking
inside of me.
When I stood,
I had no control
over my body.
I had no concept
of movement
but I had an idea
of what it was supposed to be.
I stumbled around,
attempting to find my way
through the shadows,
trying to regain some control.
I shuffled out into the light,
and was blinded by it,
as if there were needles or knives
within the sunshine.
As I looked away from the sun,
I beheld a rose,
its petals soft and as red as blood.
I tore it from the ground,
for I had never seen anything
quite as beautiful.
I wanted it with me,
to remind me of what beauty was.
My blood flowed from where
the thorns had dug
into my skin, making the petals
redder, more vibrant,
as if they were made of rubies.
I left a trail of blood
wherever I walked.
I struggled onward,
each step painful
and filled with glass,
each step precarious,
as if I were walking
on a tightrope.
My body was a patchwork quilt,
sewn together like a ragdoll.
It tried to fight me
with every movement,
ever single step,
but still I kept going.
I had begun to draw crowds of people.
They looked at me with pity:
“Oh, poor dear. Are you all alone? Well, who would want you?”
They looked at me with hate:
“Stay the fuck home if you want to drink or get high.”
They looked at me with curiosity:
“Are there others like you? Do you live in a commune?”
They looked at me with derision:
“You’re so pathetic. Are you sure you’re really sick?”
I would try to speak to them,
to emote with words,
but my borrowed tongue
merely mumbled and tripped
as I tried to shape the syllables
that I used to know.
Still I walked on,
climbing the flat mountain
that the world had become.
I knew no other way.
Eventually,
I saw a light in the distance.
As I moved towards it,
my steps became surer.
As I walked on,
the flat mountain became more manageable
and I felt less and less like I was made of puzzle pieces
held together by thread.
The pieces had fused together
to form a whole.
When I finally came upon the reason for that light,
I could only stop and stare.
It was a man of breathtaking beauty.
His inner spirit shone
and this was the light that I saw.
When he looked at me,
I didn’t feel like a monster.
When he looked at me,
I felt beautiful
and the scars that ran all over my body
ceased to matter.
When he looked at me,
I knew that he really saw who I was.
I did the only thing I could do:
I held out my rose,
and my heart to him.
Inside of me,
my own light began grow,
starting as a seed
that would soon fill me with brightness.
He moved towards me and
I was unafraid.
I was ready for love.
When we kissed
and he took me into his arms,
the ground below us began
to rumble softly,
as if the earth itself was humming.
Roses bloomed around us and
the sky above us was filled
with stars.
The Bright Light of Joy – A Poem
When she looked
at me, all
I saw were
eyes that were
filled with pity.
The tears fell
from her eyes
and slid along
her cheeks, looking
like jewels made
from her sadness.
She passed the
jewels to me,
putting her tears
into my cupped
hands. I looked
at them, shining
so brightly yet
so heavy with
despair. I looked
back at her
and saw no understanding
of what I
endured, only sadness.
I said:
“I do not have to take on your emotions.”
I let the
jewels fall from
my hands and
watched as they
floated in the
air like bubbles
filled with rainbows.
“I do not have to own your sadness.”
I said.
I watched as
the jewels began
to open in
the air, as
if they were
flowers or little
bits of joy.
Soon, the room
was filled not
with the luminosity
of tears, but
instead the bright
light of joy.
The Colour of Our Love – A Flash Fiction Story
He could see to the edge of the earth and back. The sky itself became his canvass. He watched the cosmos put on their light show for him. It was always different, punctuated by comets and shooting stars, the sky changing from a dusky plum colour to a sateen black.
From his vantage point, he saw everything. He had made his home at the top of a fire watch tower. That tower was at the top of a mountain. Alexander saw everything above and below. Every so often, he saw a flare of orange and red plumes fill the sky, as if the night itself had thrown off its black cloak to reveal the fiery feathers underneath. He called in those, speaking to the people who would put the fires out.
That was his life: wake, look out at the world and watch to see if part of it was erupting. He was deep within the trees of the forest so when the wind blew, it was as if the trees were whispering to him. In a way, he was never alone, but he was very lonely. He filled up his evenings with old movies. The fire watch tower had a small black and white television and a pile of old VHS cassettes. He did have a few books, but at night, when the darkness was total, he liked to have the sound of another voice.
He had been watching one movie in particular over and over again. It was an old movie from 1988 called Running on Empty. River Phoenix was in it and he was gorgeous. Alexander knew he needed to get laid if he was lusting after a guy from thirty years ago.
Just like the stars that changed in the blink an eye, so does life. It was a perfectly ordinary day. There was nothing to mark it as different. Alexander was just about to climb up to the top of the tower with some supplies when he heard a voice behind him. “Hey, Alexander?”
Turning, Alexander felt the world around him fall away. Coming towards him, his footsteps whispering like the leaves in the wind, was Troy. His Troy, his only. His everything. Alexander wondered if it was possible for a heart to stop beating when someone left and start anew when that person returned.
There were so many things that Alexander wanted to say. Instead he said, “What are you doing here?” What he wanted to say was: Where have you been? Why did you leave? How did you get back here? How did you find me?
Alexander watched Troy as Troy came closer to him, saw brilliance of his green eyes flash in the sun, saw the stubble on his chin and his gorgeous lips. Then Troy was there, and he was kissing Alexander. He had dreamed of Troy, had yearned for him, so it didn’t occur to push Troy away from him.
Troy still carried the same scent, sandalwood and something sweet, like someone had dusted his skin with sugar and cinnamon. Alexander slowly broke the kiss. “You might as well come up. You don’t want to be out here at night.”
Alexander turned away from Troy and began climbing up the ladder of the watchtower. He felt the moment when Troy began climbing. He could feel his vibrations in the ladder. As Alexander climbed, he wondered how he could still want him as if it were yesterday, why his heart held onto the emotions that only Troy could awake in him?
All too soon, Alexander was at the top. His body was humming, and a vibration seemed to come from his skin. It wanted to be touched again. He wanted to be touched again. Then Troy was there, his hair shining like spun gold in a riot of curls.
They both stood looking at each other, taking in the measure of the other man. Alexander wanted to run to him, to crush his body into Troy’s. Instead, he asked, “Why are you here?”
Troy ran a hand through his hair and Alexander was almost undone. That gesture was so familiar to him. Troy only did it when he was nervous. “I missed you.”
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say? That the moment I left you, I wanted to come back? That I dream of you at night and now visions of you have started to seep into the daylight hours?”
Alexander was quiet. Then he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”
“I wanted more than this.” Troy motioned to the watch tower. “I wanted to live.”
“Whereas you were more than enough for me because I was only truly alive with you.”
Troy came a little closer. The air between them started to spark. “I saw flames in the sky and all I could think of was you. All I want is you.” He touched Alexander’s face. “Please.”
It was the please that undid Alexander. He kissed him again, trying to say everything that had yet to be said, everything he had wanted to say, with that kiss. He knew that there was more to talk about but right now, there was only Troy.
Something clicked within him, as if a wall had dropped. His skin was warm, and he felt a whoosh of air around him. He pulled away from the kiss and looked around him. All he saw was Troy and a riot of colour. At first, he thought it was fire, but as Troy and Alexander reached out to touch the plumes, they did not burn.
“It’s the colour of our love.” Troy said.
Alexander stared at the gold, yellow and orange plumage that surrounded them, seeming to move with their heart beats, and realized: it hadn’t been fires he had been seeing: it was the love between two people blooming into existence.
Holding Troy close, he looked out into the night sky as the world around them became a riot of colour.
The House Inside of Me – A Poem
My body is built from
walls of bone.
They have been covered
with wallpaper
in a soft coloured hue.
There are hardwood floors
that run throughout the house.
They’ve suffered some water damage
and have become warped over time,
so walking might be a little tipsy.
There are photos that hang
upon the walls
and there are shelves
covered with nicknacks.
Each one of them tell a story,
a memory.
If you put them all in a line,
they will show you the path
my body has been on.
There are large picture windows
that let in the most gorgeous
amount of light
and they make the furniture,
careworn and old,
look brand new.
There is a washroom
that is covered in black and white tile
that is cracked in a few places.
There is an old clawfoot bathtub
big enough to fall asleep;
there is a book on the tiled floor,
half read.
If you go to the topmost floor,
as high as you can go,
you will find a library there,
a massive room filled to the brim
with towers of books.
The attic seems to go on forever,
filled with books I have read
and books that I have written.
The air smells musty
and is full of the scent of paper.
As I take in the house,
every nook and cranny,
all the cracks and holes,
the doors that don’t quite close,
or the faucet that always drips,
I am filled only with love.
As the sun falls along the wonky floorboards,
filling the house with light,
I realise that I am finally
at home in my body.
I am finally at home
in me.
A Pathway of Stars – A Poem
* This poem is for Christine, the brightest Star I know. 🙂
There is a glow within you
and it emanates from you
in subtle waves that flow
like the ocean.
You don’t merely walk
upon the ground,
for you know that every step
is a part of your journey.
Each step you take
leaves a bit of magic
in your wake;
it floats like stardust in the air.
In your dreams,
you are looking down
from high up in the clouds.
When the sky is dark,
the magic that you’ve left
upon this Earth
shines the brightest.
When you look down,
you can see every step
that you’ve taken.
You can trace them
from the beginning,
but you can’t see its end.
You follow your pathway of stars
as far as you can
until they disappear into forever.
Your journey is only beginning,
and you carry within you
the infinite cosmos and galaxies untold.
For you are a Star
that walks upon this Earth.
and our world is brighter
because of you.
Buy Little Yellow Magnet from Amazon and Kobo!
Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
