literature

Damascus

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Literature Text

somewhere, sometime, ahead in the
    [flash of minnows/sliding/winding/melody on the edge of hearing]
    ebb and flow, unfolding of time,
         I sense your presence
              in paradox; I looked over my shoulder
              didn't I leave you far behind?

once, you held me
    your eyes the mighty flames of the forge
    your words of parting a crude hammer
         striking and striking the steel of my will
    “I want to help you.”
    “What if I told you I'd found someone?”
     “I'm sorry that you felt that way.”

and I bend
    again
         and again
              and again
                   to your fiery eyes and the force of your hammer-words
you strike with great care for your craft
         each unspoken word plunges my soul
    deep into the cooling oil until

    [ripples of steel/ribbons of silver]
    I found myself forged anew
         my Damascus soul
         forged and reforged
    the sword of truth cuts lies like gossamer
         rending silk threads
              [gentle torn webs floating in the breeze]
                   and you can't touch me without bleeding.

the blade at my side, I step off the path
walking away from an ancient past
    from you
         taking my soul-blade to fight my own battles,
         the forge that made me a spark in the distance

somewhere, sometime, ahead in the
    [singing steel/whistle and shimmer/a river aglitter with starlight]
         I whisper a prayer in the din of battle
         I sense your presence
              in paradox; I looked over my shoulder
              didn't I leave you far behind?
Damascus steel is a mixture of both hard and soft steel that is folded and layered upon itself again and again until it's mixed and marbled. The effect is a resilient blade with the benefits of flexibility with a good cutting edge. From what I understand, it's an old Celtic practice.

I feel like this process happened to me, from the many batterings I took from people who used me, but most specifically from the man I fell in love with who hasn't returned those feelings for a long time. (Yet, he won't tell me he doesn't love me, and that I just don't understand.) Every time he acted with fondness, even love, toward me, was a hammer-strike to my will and it always caused great confusion. When he inevitably found someone as he's eager to settle down, it was just as hard a strike.

But now I see I can take that experience and use it to my advantage. He didn't truly make me -- I made me, by choosing to compress instead of shatter -- but I do think that the process made me stronger.

So I'm moving on. At least, doing my best to move on. Strangely, I sense that he is in my future somehow, and I don't understand how this could possibly be, or under what circumstances. Will he be an enemy? An ally? I truly have no idea, but I suppose I will find out eventually.
© 2015 - 2024 snowrite
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the-iron-queen's avatar
This is such a great painting of the inner effects on one's strength and character when one is constantly torn apart. It's very much like Temperance, in the literal sense of the word; folding in new experiences to make yourself stronger, however irrevocably different. :nod: 

Like I told you before, my instinct is that it's always best to allow things to come to be naturally and not try to force anything, so I think walking away is a good idea. You know what things are meant to be, and I don't think there's real point in worrying too much about them before it's their time. 

Apart from thaaaaat, I really love how haunting and echoing this whole piece is! The "[flash of minnows/sliding/winding/melody on the edge of hearing]" line is a perfect illustration of the feeling you're describing; like something you're close to but can't quite grasp. And I really like the beginning and ending stanzas; how they're similar but not exactly mirrored. I've read this over a few times over several days and it's left me with a chill down my spine at the end each time!