The Mourning

by | November 15, 2016

“Tethered to time like a bird caught in a cage, I try to fly away, but these tied feet go nowhere. Some days it feels like I’m stuck in a loop, running in circles, my life like the “ouroboros” (of Greek Literature). It’s sunrise, the day dawns in an ominous glory, bright rays with sharp edges. I hide bend curtains, tucked silently behind eyelids. My dreams.. my escape, but they never last long. I awake to the scent of burning dreams, I hear her voice in the other room, soft and sweet like angels fallen, she calls my name with a tone so sweet it could wake the dead, she almost woos me to her side as she flips our burning dreams, roasting on the stove’s top, no grill just bare flames, to ignite our souls. She smiles as I enter the kitchen, telling me breakfast is almost ready, the table was set and I should take a seat. At the center of our table sat the old roses of our past smiles, drooping like sad heads, their brilliant colors faded to the colors of funerals. Our plates ordered haphazardly, our old stains barely visible, we share our new dreams on old joys.


She smiles as she plates up our breakfast, she walks over, her staggered shrugging, stumble of a walk, seemed almost poetic. She sits adjacent, her smile just as bright as when I entered first, I smile back as we offer up our thanks, settle and down to eat. Who knew these days would catch us? We eat in silence, no sound; we eat in silence. The sound of breakfast is silence. Suddenly, one of our feet kicks the table and vase and flowers fall. There’s a knock at the door, and silence holds hands with our vase as it breaks. The undertaking joins the wedding. No wedding song plays, no happy feet, no joyful sound, no vows, no kiss, no bride or groom, we sit in silence, having breakfast, the undertaker knocks loudly, but our silence is what deafens us, our silence is whatrose-casket-3 killed us. We hide in plain sight under the sheets, behind closed doors. We hide in plain sight. We lost our way and our eyes, we hid from time till time forgot us, but these rays are out to get us. These rays know the truth and in the end they get us, they let the hearse man in and he took us. We hid, we did, but they found us. Won’t time grant us a Twix second, a Tiki time out, a kitkat minute break the silence and tell our story, write the end and let them read it, lets tell the story of how we sat in the loudest silence, hiding from time, begging God for just another five minutes. Take my hand; here they come; the rays a-comin’ the rays a-comin’. Take my hand, one last, time, lets share a kitkat promise, we just have one minute left. Do you hear that? The Rays A-comin’, the hearse man’s a-knockin’. Hide with me behind these curtains; it’s sunrise (again), the day dawns in an ominous glory, bright rays with sharp edges. Shhh! Rest In Peace. RIP, silence sleeps here, listen to her story.” “It all started on one ominously gorgeous mornin’, little did she know how much her life was changin’ that day”… (Special Tribute…)