Silence
I'm twenty-eight today, but that doesn't mean anything anymore. The clouds are spilling -sliding -cascading out of the sky in some manner at odds with nature and physics and I think, "This is just another thing I can't understand." But I am silent.
My mother's sobs seem stifled and gasping as she fails to hold them in. And I am still silent.
My father's eyes are surprisingly wet after a prayer about love, but my silence drowns out the words.
How can this be about love? Love is loss? Love is failing. And love is selfish.
I can't see the road through the blur but there's no point in slowing down. There is no point. The salt could have melted snow. It cascades and pours like the enigmatic clouds; and I don't understand the point of it all. The agony and the grief... was this part of the plan? It's never going to be fixed, so does that mean it isn't a flaw? Is pain part of the design? My chest burns for lack of air.
I enter her house and parts of her life are already being stored away somewhere else. Each room I stumble through leaves me in a panic. I can't find what I need or where I'm supposed to be. I don't know who I am when such a large part of me is missing. And I think, "No one will ever know me again." How can they? People I meet from now on wont be able to meet her anymore, and that means they can't understand the biggest piece of me.
I collapse in my mother's arms and begin to shake. I can't stay silent anymore. I can't hold anything in as we both break into dust. I can no longer hear or move as the earth spinning around me is suddenly too loud and too fast. "Bury her with this," and she puts it in my hand, but I will never see it again.
She is much too small and I still can't understand. I lose more tears in the impossible depths until she's finally covered with dirt. And I can only think, "Love doesn't make any sense." I will never be loved more than the love that she gave me - it's just a simple truth. So if that's the very best that love can do, then it is a failure. It is designed to fail me. It's a flawed notion and I want to cast it away.
Every tender memory of her replays in my head like torture. Love is singling something out and saying, "I choose you over the rest." Discrimination and bias are the best examples we have. If we were fair, we wouldn't choose one thing to love. We wouldn't delegate favor. And it wouldn't pass on to something else. It would never become loss. It would never become silence.
The clouds have collapsed to the dirt that we hide inside. It's something I just can't understand, like years passing, like death, and like love. I am silent once again.
Posted by heydomsar
2008-05-21
go back | random brainstorm | go forth
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