Tina Jordan’s writing invites you to relax, read and feel soul-stirring moments in and across time. Drawn from the author’s own dreams and daydreams, each piece explores the depths of the human heart and mind. Tina makes her home in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
Wraith
I rang his number at 10:24 on Tuesday night the deafening silence that answered brought me to my knees a certainty that it was something I said began to overflow and the tears burned like a caustic rain washing away all but the ghost of me
Indomitable
were I to eclipse my endearment for you would you release me from your shadow? crown me Queen of the Lost Cause? send me on my way? or would you pause finding something amiss? strength enough to forsake my yearning I have not could it be that you are the beginning and the end of this chaotic heart?
War
The hounds have returned from their hunt Without their master, Ragged and with their senses Slightly askew. His supper is cold and likely as stale As the dread mounting in my gut. The echo of empty promises Takes an aggressive stance Against my inclination to forgive and forget. I carry not the patience for a rematch. My instinct chimes in, and I know With some degree of certainty His whereabouts. I crave not the taste of My own blood tonight. The decision to run and never Look back weighs upon my Thoughts. I’d be much the better for it. Before I can don my cloak, The insurgent buried deep Inside me demands An audience With my hackneyed excuses. With care, I soothe My fears into a state Of obscurity. Cogadh. I feel almost arrogant Asking for Divine protection, Knowing full well my intention. My pulse accelerates with the Blood of the ancients. Dagger cleverly concealed, I await his steely embrace. For the first time In a long time, I will not lower my eyes In deference tonight.
Open Water
the motion of waves within my heart longs for a voice of its own I harbor the rebellious movement in isolation fearing reproach my wounds well salted dare not bleed with you so near I cannot read the stars in your eyes tonight turning my back to the fair-weather winds I await the tide’s resurgence unmoored precarious adrift unable to admit how I sorely I am in need of rescue
Revenant
The night air is heavy with moisture Weighing down upon me, offering A temporary diversion from these thoughts That have shamelessly denied me My desire to sleep. My restlessness proves to be A most uneasy companion as we Walk hand in hand, Nervously scanning the street ahead. It appears to be abandoned And almost as lonely As what remains in the shell Of my heart. The street lamps mock me, Feigning an effort to guide me Further into the unknown And closer to the forbidden Side of town. I have nothing left to offer. The assumption that declaring My truth would distill my soul Had proven to be fallaciousness. Replete with self induced sorrow, I continue my stride towards something Yet unknown and unnameable, Pausing only briefly to salute The smell of the ocean with a Salty refugee flown free From my left eye. Wiping away the bitter sting, I wonder if my vision deceives. I see it once more. A blur of movement near the Entrance to the docks affects A chilling of the essence Running through my veins. I can feel him, Though I know not his name. I haven’t the will to contradict My fatigued curiosity and even less The inclination to return home. With the certainty that he read my thoughts Long before my arrival, I brace myself, Settling into an uncanny comfort As I acquiesce. Perhaps I never really knew What I wanted. Past the iciness of his hands On my shoulders, I feel life, Albeit in terms that I have never Fully appraised. What of rumors and warnings? I turn to face him, and though the Wind has faded into naught, I am swayed.
Portrait of Lisette
She perches near the west-facing window each evening inviting the warmth of fiery fingers to burn an image of a thousand dusks into her unseeing eyes, invoking an orchestra of tender ocean waves to paint the most splendid of sunsets in her sky of darkness.