Gold Mine, peace, poem, Poetry, prose

let them eat cake.

Let Them Eat Cake

February 21, 2008


The words are on the tip of my tongue, I canโ€™t quite feel them to spit them out, numb. What I want to say is more profound than I can comprehend in any way I could present in colorfully turned phrases or wanton metaphor, metaphor is an awful whore anyway. I want to tell you a story that will change your life for the better, make every rotten day a priceless gift, lift you up so can see beyond the superficiality of this flesh and bone, of this ache and moan, to know that you were meant to be and we, are of the ever after. Stardust settled onto Earth, there is no measure of the worth of your soul, no price high enough to represent the value of an hour spent with one you love or a moment lost to chance. I want to tell you that there is chance in everything that is destined, and destiny in everything that is chance. I want to shore you up in moments weak, help you lift your head to see the strength in your fragility, the hope in your despair, the beauty of your breaking, the necessity of your scars that provide a thicker skin in those places. All your hopes and dreams and wants that never came to be, that fell like only memories, are out there, hanging in some high thin air, suspended on a dare, sustaining you in ways you never know, when you think that you are empty. I want to touch your hand, or look into your eyes, and send a shock right through you so that you will see the moon and the stars for the first time and know, that this is Eden. So that you might find some peace of mind and feel and be free of all your preconceived notions. Understand that no matter what we say and do to each other to survive here, no matter what happens to us, what others do, we all remain, One. Sprung forth and returning to the same well that is the life breath of God Almighty, whatever that means to you, it is the place from whence I came, however different we are the same, in moments so fleeting weโ€™re left to wonder what we saw at all, lingering, with us, leaving us questioning what is real here.

I wish I had the words to tell you, everything I know.




~ Teri Skultety

from, Gold Mine

The title of this piece was meant to be ironic, incongruous, not to imply that I was as out of touch as Ms. Antoinette when I wrote it, but rather to imply the opposite. I know how difficult it can be to continue to see the world, to recognize the Earth, as Edenic, as Eden. This was something born out of the pain of living with chronic illness, out of understanding the preciousness of time. If you can still take in the view of the stars, if you can still wonder at the moon, and marvel at the vastness of the ocean, perhaps you can find it again. Perhaps such appreciation is something one must actively cultivate. It’s a beautiful thought to wonder on. ~ TS