Yellow ribbon Hostages

Yellow ribbon hostages. Stuck, I couldn't think of what to write on the paper. So I wrote the word yellow, but the paper is yellow, legal paper, held hostage the words. 

And the words won't come and didn't. My head is thick, my feet buzzing from meditation. I was too busy pulling the energy up my body, through my chakras, and out my head. Usual blockage at the heart, but I like the buzz out the top of my head. 

I think of a blue ribbon attached to the sky, dragonfly blue. The cat tries the shower window hanging onto the screen like a furry crucifixion. It's Lent. how appropriate. What did you give up? What holds the heart hostage? When disappointment erodes it like a hostage? The sun in bondage. All this yellow paper, the black night of words leaking in. 

The Civil War soldiers dying in what foreign field while loved ones restored their faith, tying yellow ribbons around sweet magnolia trees to bring them home. What soldiers in what wheat fields? 

As we learn the names of the cities, the oldest civilization cradling the past between the rivers. We have crossed the Euphrates. We have crossed the Tigris. What will we have to do in order to bring ourselves home? What ransom have we put on the world? I am clinging to the names of rivers, the Zeb, the little Zeb, the Khyber as in Khyber Pass. 

I loved that book. I skipped all the military strategy in order to get to the part where they go through the secret mountain passage. I skipped all the war parts in War and Peace too, making it a quick read. But this war is on prime time, every channel. 

We are wearing yellow ribbons on the inside. We have taken Baghdad, but no matter how far we advance, we can't seem to find the heart of the city. Prisoners keep track of the days by tacking imaginary yellow ribbons on imaginary trees. What holds the heart hostage?

4/11/2003