The Stillness
The grass was as worn as the thoughts of my mind, yet it
writhed on, bent with the reluctance of an aging man in the coldest days of
life. Freely it stretched its arms to touch all things, each blade reaching far
beyond its grasp to embrace the fading warmth of autumn days. And we but strangers
to this place in so early an hour walked without an upward glimpse across a
great expanse. There beneath the elms we turned, and there within the moment we
sought.
It was November now, a season of shadows. The eastern
thrush no longer sang. The last of the ardent leaves fell from ashen trees, and
we rest upon its remains. I stood there at the edge of the woods, where pristine
lawns collide with nature’s past and I looked back upon its path. There where
the snakes and insects once crept; those lifeless, senseless creatures gave not
one thought to anything or anyone. There
where they scurried amongst the twisted twigs, there where thistles grow and
time forgot. I wanted only to hold your
hand and lessen your fears. But you held to your shimmering box.
I drew closer. The wind was unruly and wanting, shyly
tugging upon my sleeve. Its cold fingers crept into my heart like a thief into
a pocket, robbing me of all I held. I pulled my jacket tighter, and you closed
your eyes, but we cannot escape its bitter theft. We seemed so unlike them, you
and I. For others felt little of that moment. Could they did hear the snapping
signs or notice the flowers had lost their strength? Had they not seen the
color stripped forest or the snowy dew upon the marble? They seemed as cheerful souls at winter’s door.
You called my attention to those girls. How spiritedly
they play, how beautiful their sterling dresses. “Look!” You whisper, how they skip
hand in hand, one pulls forward and the other back. They laugh, they scream, they
care not of season’s end. They make you smile, and I smile to you. For I know
that you wish to be them once more, dancing happily with burning winds, blushingly
falling for something in the pale green grass.
That is why I have
brought you here, to this place where people cease to be themselves and tell
their tales in solemn tone. So cast away all other thoughts. Be done with those
that approach with straighter form and better manners. Though
they feel your light, they do not see the sun within your eyes. Put
away the silvery-blue box that stands between us. Let your ear touch upon my
lips and let me once more feel your warmth upon my hand. Come hear the dream I
had of you.
“Who are you talking to?” Softly spoke a small boy that I
once knew.
“Her of course.” I replied.
“Why doesn't she answer then?”
“I think she wants to, but she’s doubtful of why I am
here.” I turned to you, but you remained as stone. “I did not want to meet her here;
I didn't want to tell her this way.”
“Tell her what?” Unconsciously the young boy sat, his
fingers interlaced, his stainless eyes upon your box.
“The dream I had of the only girl I loved.” I confess against
my will. But knew not what I awaited, for there was neither sound nor movement
from either one. Therefore, with a heavy heart, I began.
“I was ten when ten was not a better age to be, when
parents abandon their young on winter nights, when a lack of food gave true
hunger for living. Days were cynical; children were cruel. But
from the cold I withdrew, water from rivers, warmth from the blazing sun. My mind turned
to vengeance, my soul to hatred. Not toward those who tried and faltered, but
rather for those that chose not to see. And so I ran one night.
Into the tall grasses I fled, the wind upon my face and a
fiery upon my back. My feet carried me faster than they have ever run. And for
some time they remembered ever snag and ever snare in that vast blackish void
that once hampered me from light. Until I had gone beyond all familiarity and reposed,
fell to sleep in unclouded sight.
Then in a dream I arose. Higher and higher I fleeted as I climbed
the branches of a great white oak, beyond where I have ever been. The branches
were but embracing arms stemming ever greener with me as we both ascended. My
body no longer tired, my will no longer lead. I reached the top, high above
that earthly view. And there upon that fragile branch she stood, the girl with
umber eyes."
