Gone, Pt. 2

Restless again, Megan wandered over to the window.  When she looked out of it she saw a man standing on the corner.  He had thinning blond hair, and he was gazing up at the hotel, a look of inexpressible sadness on his face.  Megan stood back in the shadows, watched him.  After a few minutes he turned around and walked away.

Gone

I nail my hair to the floor

whisper through the strands

                Oh my Hosanna

                do you hear me tonight?

                oh my Hosanna

                shoot me a sign because

                I lift you up

                                I lift you up

                until you are the

highest  

                               

                                                I cast you              you take flight

                                                into this deconstructing night

                                                rain shining hammers

                                                down    

                                                                upon my head

                                                upon the dead memories I

                                                scatter on your altar

like lilies

                                                                  resurrected

           

For you I know of fires

                                around my eyes they burn

                                they bring me here with

                                crooked fingers

                I shoot you higher

                count the nails tumbling from my hands

                                you forgot me      left me here

                a thousand angels with tar-pitched wings

                                they drag me to this precipice

                they drag me here

                                life is for the jumping

               

oh my Hosanna Hosanna in the highest

               

                                                you bury me like a stick

                                                after you have broken off the buds

                to cast you            to take flight

                                they drag me here

                                call me fool to my face

                                show me my swelling toes underneath

                                your heels

                                                and these nails

tumble

upon my head

                                Yes, for you I have known of fires

                                with crooked fingers I

                                pray to you

                                through the ravaged ends of

        my hair

the floorboards hear me

pity me

Yesterday

There is a girl who almost remembers things.  She remembers things the way someone who is about to remember a name suddenly forgets it again.  Like sea waves in early spring that almost roll onto your toes but stop just a few inches shy and then return to the sea, as you both long for the feel of the water covering your skin and yet exhale relief because the water is so very cold.

She waits for dreams but they are so often the same.  She waits for someone to tell her something.  She is so used to accepting.  Accepting and accepting and accepting.  Some say this is a virtue, but acceptance can be the first stage of surrender.  She no longer fights, because she accepts.  She gives up.

There are many ways to die.  She died believing she had survived.  But all that survived were her involuntary functions, like breathing, and hoping.  Everything that moved under direction was murdered.  There can be no free will.  There can be nothing left that opens all of the doors in the hallway.  There can be no way through the red straw network.  There can only be walking.  Walking and walking and walking.  And there must be acceptance.  Her life was forfeit.  It was never meant to be practiced.  It was meant to be sacrificed to the greater cause.  If only the buffoon hadn’t been such a buffoon.  The great buffoon who accidentally saved them all by being so very useless and weird.  It does not matter who you are or where you came from if you are weird, and, therefore, unpredictable.  Close counts in more than just horseshoes and hand grenades.

He was a fool.  Even with fools he could not fit in.  He was a fool who fools despised, because he did not know he was weird.  His genius brain betrayed him.  Everything and everyone betrayed him.  It was a family full of nuclear silences.  The bomb has yet to go off.  Instead the leaking radiation is killing them all.

Hope

It was not the water I feared but the coming

                                                down

                        the expelling of the clouds from my lungs

            I was not alone but I could feel the earth tearing

                                                it was torment it was joy

                                    it was for one morning dream to know

                                                I would not be           

broken

           

            Until full of torture full of faith I woke up in another place

                                    The coming back

                        the coming

down

                                                           

                        back here where all one can do is breathe

           

air

            believe in me   because it is not the water I fear

           

                        to cast a net

            to hide in a shadow

                        to be that misleading and without any meaning

                                                            when I am this full of

             

            impossibilities inside

                        and as I lay here alone I would not complain

                                    if I could just resurrect

                                                what we killed to survive

                       

            In a bold moment

            I said it had been worth it

            but knew you did not believe me       and neither did I

                        my black and blue hope you were hearing     

                                    to come

                                                to fight

                       

I am so tired of death

            please

       let it just once be life

Beautiful Disguise

In the silence that followed Megan wondered again about the cat who Andy had released all of those years ago.  She wondered if he even remembered it anymore, or if he had moved on from those memories, too.  But she didn't ask. She only stood there, waiting, until he said, “So, anyway, I just wanted to stop by, because I’ll be heading off to Chicago tomorrow.”

“Does that you mean you’ve made a decision about your job?”

“I talked to my boss when he was here.  We've everything worked out.”

“That’s great,” Meg said, and smiled at him.  “Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.  And, Megan—it was good to see you again.”

“You, too.”

After a brief hesitation Andy turned toward the door.  Before he reached it, he said to the wall, “So I guess you’re going to hate me forever, then."

“Oh, no.  Not at all.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’ll let me know if you ever need something?”

“Definitely.”

“Good,” he answered.  And without another word he left the hotel room.

Sanctuary

oh yes     I know how to sleep

I close my eyes     the colors of make believe

and dream and dream and dream

just dream and dream and dream…

            

Lost

Forgive me this arrogance 

this undeniable conceit

Too foolish to understand

what surrender would mean