Thursday, 7 November 2013

The Sparrow

Her unblinking gaze was fixed on the chipped wall  .Outside, the storm was raging  while the antique clock  impassively  ticked the hours away. Weary of battling against the morose being living in her skin , she had  let her  life glide away.  . Suddenly , a sharp crash into the pane made her toss her head ,  she slid her hand out the window and took the tiny sparrow . A shiver ran through her spine .The clock struck twelve and the room went dark .
Clasping the little bird to her bosom she went to bed. That night, and the following ones, she dreamt about dramatic sceneries, giant waves lashing  the coastline and ancient, pagan, Celtic rituals.  As time went by , her dreams showed her how  to use mistletoe and marsh plants with healing properties . She established an abiding relationship with nature and  its deities , being able to forecast the future by watching the clouds”  What is happening to me ?” she wondered  bewildered ."Whatever it may be, it has given my life back over"

A crisp clear morning , while she was  admiring the sacred  places of the druids,  a woman with gnarled hands sauntered up to her . “  Release the sparrow  perched on your windowsill , someone´s souls is trapped in it ”

That night, overawed by sadness, she left the window wide open so that her friend flew away . It was snowing in Ireland, and it was in  J. Joyce`s work “The Dead"( …)”  the snow falling faintly through the uni­verse and faintly falling( … ) "  upon  all the liv­ing and the dead.”  but dead, cannot feel the snow “, she thought, while the snowflakes were soaking her skin . Then,seizing to life, she closed the window.

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