Time to turn

Today, I am certain I saw a white crow.

I thought I had seen it a few days about, but the time must not have been right. I must have been missing something. The wind wasn’t just right or something was out of place or I just wasn’t ready yet. I convinced myself it wasn’t a crow but a turn or a gull or some other kind of bird.

Despite the fact that the black crows were descending on it. Birds do that sometimes. Who knows…

But today, as I rode up on my bicycle to the job where my spouse has worked the entire time we’ve lived in this city, I knew for certain. There, amongst its fellows, sat the white crow cawing on a rooftop that was the same faded grey that it was. A hint, just a touch of the black of the others.

I watched it fly about the roof for a bit until I decided to go inside.
As I did, I thought to myself: what sort of image is this? What sort of harbinger is a white crow? The opposite warning? The other side? The piece of the picture I hadn’t seen?

My partner is leaving his job in a week. We are leaving this city in four months.
I have been waiting for something for me to break. Waiting for time to turn. Waiting for a sign.

Today, I recognized the white crow. The moment where it all turns around for you. The moment when you finally understand:

Not every crow is black.
Not every path is set.
Not every choice is made.

There is still so much to see, to learn, to understand, to come face to face with.
Now is the turning point. There, on that rooftop is the white crow.

Just when I knew what I wanted to say, the violent wind blew the wires away.
Some thing’s are pure and some things are right,
but the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight.

Stood outside in the month of May and watched the violent wind blow the wires away.

If I die in the month of May, let the wind take my body away.
Wish I may, wish I might, don’t leave me down there with my arms folded tight.
Start again in the month of May.

Come on and blow the wires away.

The white crow, the harbinger of change, is in the air.
Time to recognize that the violent wind is already blowing all around us.
And it’s time to blow the wires away.

And yet.

All this positive, change direction, new fresh interesting lives just waiting on the cusp for me. All this uplifting verbology, all these bright and inspiring images, all these hopes and truths and great shining moments just waiting for me…

All this and what I want is what doesn’t actually exist.
Just like before.
The life you want to live, you don’t get to. And the life you have is the one you never wanted.

And all the positivity, the knowing things get better, the having seen it happen is all worthless in the face of the crushing defeat you still, inevitably feel. As if all this were on you. As if you were the failure, the one who wasn’t worth it or wasn’t good enough or just didn’t pull through this time.

As if you were the one biking, walking, running, moving away.
As if it were all you orchestrating, manipulating, creating.

Either way, those happy words and happy thoughts and happy hopes don’t feel right right now. Don’t feel real right now. Aren’t tangible.

Just a broken bass line without a melody to make a song.

So, what – really – now?
Nothing at all, it seems.

Just a broken secret without a plan to make it a life.


Something broke. Like a floodgate to the things I didn’t want to believe or a dam that was holding all those revelations back. Maybe it was a fortress that I’d surrounded myself in – for years. A cleverly constructed false front to the buildings that had been built by other people whose ways of life I just simply didn’t agree with anymore.

Maybe it was an alter I’d set myself alight on.

Whatever it was, it’s gone now. The trust and the hope and the clinging desperately to it for just one more moment to prove that it was true, that it was going to work, that the problems and the flaws and the cracks in it weren’t ever really going to break it, weren’t ever really going to make it unstable, unsafe, useless. Were they?

And, here we are.

Secret worlds and secret lives and secret plans with secret outcomes were always my way. Were always the only thing that got me through. Late night decisions and changes in direction like the wind. Never a warning, never a second-thought. Had I forgotten? Or, did I just think I’d found my Skai? My Fenugreek? My Protectorate? The ones you tell all your secret plans to. The ones you trust because without them the world you were working in doesn’t exist.

Did I forget that you have to build that? And that if you don’t build it well enough, it will break?
Nothing creates itself. Nothing is without an ecosystem that sustains it. Nothing is alone.

I don’t have to fear the void because there is none. Waiting out beyond this is a world I just haven’t found yet. A life I just haven’t thought to live yet. An ecosystem I just hadn’t seen yet.

Tonight, I think I caught a glimpse of the doorway into it.
I have no idea where it leads. But then, I never have.
I’ve always just opened the door and hoped that whatever was on the other side was worth having. Thus far, it always has been. For it’s time.

The biggest thing I forgot is that everything has its time.
And the time for a new door has come.

So, that’s all that broke. My forgetfullness. The illusion surrounding this path I’d been down for this while. This life that I’ve been living for now. The memory that a cycle is never complete until you come back around to the beginning of it. And, in this existence – you always will.

So, here’s to coming back around.
And coming there without the fear of the befores that I’ve been here before.
Not without the saddness I’ve been bred and trained to have. Not without the recognition innate within me to feel some sort of loss – of something. And yet, with a renewed sense of realisation that that emotion is not final.

Just one more moment to come back around to.
Just another moment to move through.
Just another piece of the cycle that I’ve always been on.

So, here’s to the new secret. The new plan. The new cycle, but the same stage.
Welcome to the Spring.