xenogere

And there I stand

Posted on Dec 21, 2006 by jason

Some days are better than others and some are stranger than others, but regardless of which you get, all you can do is go with what you have rather than what you wished for.

December 21 has drawn to a close, the winter solstice visited upon us in a clear and cool night.  Only ten more days rest betwixt now and the end of the year.  How do I follow that path without lamenting what is to come?  I see no way.

My feet tremble with each falling step.  Rocky and treacherous, the road appears to lead toward desperation.  It is laden with dangerous travelers and pitfalls.  Because I was content to assume life’s equality, I am driven to desolation’s door by threat of being crushed under carriages drawn on hooves of trampling steeds.  Under foot will I roam should I not step aside.  I must escape the trail laid out before me.

Even on a night such as this when the sky paints in dark hues marked only by countless stars, my lonely journey seems hopelessly illuminated by those busy on their way to and fro, scampering here and there in hurries of callous self-involvement.  They need and they want.  Who am I to argue intent?

In foliage dark and deep lining the road I hear predators stalking me.  They keep pace, their eyes flashing brilliantly in small, open spaces where they chance a peek at their quarry.  I feel like so much game dashing about the savannah trying to escape the inescapable.  I can feel the hunter’s breath upon my neck, feel the rumble of its growl as it leans near and whispers promises of pain and anguish.

How did I come by this bleak boulevard?  On what road did I travel before my footfalls echoed silently?

This way, one so lightless and hostile, appears impassible, the menacing trace of lifeless prey too long removed from this time to warn others of the perils.  Sinister beasts are on the prowl this night, and I fear their eyes have settled upon me already.  With no exits in sight, what is one to do?  How is one to survive?

I long to take flight on gossamer wings I do not possess.  Foes rest around every corner lurking in shadows deep, the cold of their gazes my only company in such a lonely night.  I try to take comfort from the dark and only wrap myself in shameful dross.  It is cold to the touch . . . like me.

The smell of ashes fills the air.  Is it the hope of fire around which brethren meet and join together for warmth, or is it the telltale sign of more lives giving way . . .  I have no way of knowing.  I dare not investigate without inhaling the danger in too deep breaths.

In the distance, I hear music, perhaps an aria carried by the voice of a goddess, yet the song chants verses incomprehensible to the ear but equally graspable as it floats through the heart.  She weeps, laments even, and sings of aloneness.  Too distant and too quiet, I cannot make out the language her tongue unfolds into the night sky, but I need not understand her.  I need only listen.  Her faint and melodic dirge seems all to clear.  I can almost see the tears streaming down her face as she cries out.  Does she know there is no one here to answer her plaintive cries?  Despite the beauty she offers freely into the empty coldness, I dare not respond lest I deepen her sadness with my own.  Or invite the hunters to take us both.

Yet beneath her singing, I hear something else.  A dog barks somewhere in the distance.  The warning falls on ears too eager for life to hear its meaning, and even as I strain to absorb as much of it as I can, I suspect it is a voice of loneliness.  He speaks for all of us, methinks, this dog barking not in savage tones but in pleading ones.  He answers the woman, or he answers my heart, or even both call to him.

Permalink Trackback