Praying to the light, by Silvie Tepes

Sunday, 23 August 2009

Church today, after a long, long time. After the past tumultuous few months, I honestly didn’t know how I would feel to walk in there again but sitting on the well-worn pews, flanked by my mother and grandmother, I suddenly felt calm and happy. There we were, 3 generations of mother and daughter, sitting together but alone with our own thoughts and it all suddenly just made me feel at home.

Religion was never something I spent a lot of time thinking about – not because I didn’t think it mattered, but because it was something that was simple to me: I believed. That was it, that was enough. I didn’t have a philosophy about it, I certainly didn’t pray endlessly but I didn’t feel bad for it either.

I think of religion as a quiet, private thing, which is why I find the more charismatic kind of church-going experience very disconcerting, although I daresay it works for some, and that’s ok. It just doesn’t feel right to me personally. I think that’s why I related to TMS’s post about TV evangelists. I don’t enjoy being preached at, but I like the idea of being guided. Continue reading Churches

Heated thoughts

The heat of the afternoon smothers her in an uncomfortable embrace. She’s desperate for escape but there is none.

She’s at her desk. Her work is open and politely asking for attention, but unrelated thoughts meddle with her focus.

If three’s a crowd, her brain is home to a multitude. She can almost feel them jostling, shoulder to shoulder, trying to push in front of each other, competing for prominence.

There are those beautiful people who she’s refusing to let go of. People who took her into their collective arms and provided her with a makeshift home and family at a time when she was surrounded only by the rubble of her past mistakes, ugly destruction. They made her sing. Their life and energy worked her stiff muscles, making it easier to move, to move on, to walk away. She misses them and wants them around her so that she can feel at peace again.

There is one who is experiencing that unimaginable pain of having to walk away from something that meant everything. She sees the invisible cuts, the eyes that pretend to focus while hiding wells of hurt, she hears the voice that rings out sweet and strong but knows it is on the verge of breaking, heavy with tears. She recognizes the symptoms of heartbreak and aches to ease the constant throbbing pain.   Continue reading Heated thoughts

The Fight


Lights off.


She closes her eyes, savouring the inky blackness, feeling it wash over her skin. Cool. Slinky. Soft.


She doesn’t recall where the light switch is, but she doesn’t care… She can’t see anything but the black and it’s a total mind fuck. Standing still, she could be in a tiny box, just big enough for her frame, or in an endless expanse of nothing. Standing still she’d never know.


She closes her eyes and waits for him. His warmth against her cool skin. His stubble against her smooth cheek. His larger frame, enveloping her small one.


One disappearing into the other. Both disappearing in the darkness.


If the real thing is anywhere near as good as she remembers… “Mmm” she murmurs to herself, waiting, aching, wanting.


The touch comes.


Her eyes fly open.


Something’s wrong. Continue reading The Fight