From time to time we are asked to "special" a boy, which is to say, sit with him round the clock, such the condition; such was Nathan. He knew Virgil. Said things that hurt. Said he wanted to die. Asked my help. Can't stop thinking about it.++++++
What do you think?
I think we do our duty.
How?
We follow orders.
But this is bullshit.
Yeah.
++++++
My shift. He was half-sleeping, a discarded puppet of a boy. Stagnant pools for eyes, brimming sadness, regret, anger, confusion. Arms tied down. Tubes everywhere. And beside his bed, I sat, trying to feel something.
++++++
You, you and you. Now.
It was night. The kind of dark you can't see nothing, but you can hear everything. And they wanted a prisoner. Needed information.
++++++
He said I didn't know what it was like. Said some things could never not be, once done, forever they mark a man. He had done some things. When I said no, he begged. Pleaded. Told me just to leave him for a moment.
++++++
Nathan, how we gonna do this?
I don't know. I don't know.
What are we gonna do?
Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.
++++++
I reached in my pocket. Laid them on the table. All he needed. Neither of us saying anything. I laid them one by one as one might lay cards. Then I leaned over and whispered: If you want to fuck yourself, go ahead. I'll let Virgil know you're coming.
19 comments:
Your words are raw and at times harsh but they make me feel. I do enjoy your blog.
Thanks Gray.
Anger, pain, despair, disdain. The audacity of a broken man asking another human to commit an atrocious act to ease his pain . . . can't you feel all the negative energy bouncing around off of those walls? What would one do? Do you choose your own "right" or his "right"?
Limes, I think you're right. The energy on my blog has become too negative, even for me it seems. Gonna take a break from blogging and writing.
For the record, I meant the energy between your characters. It would not have been my right to suggest your energy was in any way . . .
I'm sorry, truly sorrowful.
I write from the inside out. If it's in the post, it was in me. You only pointed out the obvious of which I was too close to see for myself. It is what it is. No fault on your part.
Yes, of course, your writing is the essence of you. I honestly don't know what to say. I simply feel sorrow. Very, very sad.
Sometimes feelings are more intense in the backward glance than when one is in the actual battlefield of crisis. Thank you for awareness & self-responsibility.
You write about what is important with the most exquisitely personal sensitivity I have ever read in my life, Trée. You become every person/character who is moving, breathing, speaking, thriving, dying - don't you. What a toll that must take.
Breaks is good. How about some tea with warm corn torts, butter, agave nectar (do you guys have agave nectar in Tennessee?), with you in the guest chair this time? If you do rest from your blog, would you say hello, let us know you are okay?
I will miss you horribly. But above all encourage you to take really good care of your beautiful self.
Constance, thanks for the kind words. I'm not sure how long it might be before I post again--could be tomorrow. When the writing comes, it just comes whether I want it to or not. Today, in particular, sometime around noon, a darkness more intense than I can recall descended, literally out of a gorgeous blue Fall day. I mean today, weather-wise, was near perfect, yet, I could hardly function. All I know is when I woke up, I was fine. By noon, another matter. I posted two posts today, one of which was rather sub-par and I took it down. One thing I can promise you is I won't just disappear. I've been known to cell phone friends while still under the influence of operating room anesthesia. This darkness comes and goes of its own accord. Tomorrow could be a wonderful day, a very creative day and I could write several posts. Then again, it could be a fews days until I feel I can post something worthy of seeing the light of day. I want as I've always wanted, for the writing to be about the writing and not about me. I feel like what I am doing is blurring that line, crossing it in some odd way that makes me uncomfortable. I'm not even sure what that last sentence means. Anyway, your very kind words are greatly appreciated. I'm not going anywhere. Been blogging and writing consistently for almost five years. I don't see that stopping anytime soon. Oh, and I've never even heard of agave nectar--but it sounds wonderful. Can you hand deliver it? :-)
Limes, I wrote and taught for many years a Listening Workshop. That's all I need right now. Just the empathy of the ear. :-)
You have mine. It is filled with empathy, with heart.
It's you being the instrument for a higher purpose, the 'hollow reed' for this particular life-song. And, the Full Moon is in Pices right this minute - spiritual, ultra-sentient - having some strange effects on human hearts and spirits, especially today, gorgeously Fall and blue, and tonight, suddenly cold and windy. First fire of the year in the wood stove.
Seems you have accepted the sudden
visits of the darkness, an oppositeness to the blazing light that pours through your writing.
All things experienced fully reveal their opposite.
"...wanted for the writing to be about the writing and not about me" -- I totally believe this of you.
Hand deliver the agave nectar? Surely you jest, kind Sir. Does the flower deliver pollen to the bee? :=)
I grow weary from the battle. The enemy is unseen, unheard and attacks from nowhere, when I least expect it. And the battle is fought alone, for from the outside, it appears of no battle at all. Visible illness, sigh, to wish such is to know the loneliness of that which cannot be seen, to bear wounds beyond the eye.
All wars are fought because the insides cannot bear the unbearable, and murder brothers instead. Many of us on the planet right now taking the Hero's Journey of self-responsibility, and none as generously as you.
Yes alone ... and not. This narrow passage will pass, I promise.
I think in a past life I was the English Patient and you were the Bedouin healer.
Strange you should say that ...
tell me why . . .
I read it thinking one thing and when I hold it back and see you, I think another. That tells me that there is more than one truth. But then I have lived the multi-sided argument. I have been on both sides of the argument within myself, and all within the nest of a beautiful week. One ugly gut wrenching day can change it all.
Tree, you aren't alone, you know. You really aren't. It's just that it feels that way and what other way do we ever have to learn our truths, but through feelings? Argh. I sound a cyclone, feel a swirl, look a swish of toilet water. Just hold on. Be well. Know your value and your beauty.
xo
erin
Erin, you are beautiful. And I want to root you from the soil like a carrot and hold you under my nose. I want to breath all of you into me, what is seen and what is not seen. And I know you will hold nothing back.
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