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A Rallying Cry
I remember feeling nothing the moment I heard,
the shock impacting my mind like an EMP;
all systems went dark, fizzling out as the words hit my ears.
I gave thanks for being informed,
the words mechanical and rehearsed,
the last dying program executing before power was gone for good.
Our little Pixie slept,
and I didn't want to disturb her with what I feared came next--
I made calls; I spoke matter-of-factly; I grew numb with each line.
Tears welled up, receded, then came again with a thrusting push.
As they fell, the maelstrom descended,
violent winds assaulting my mental faculties,
stripping away all I had built up over the years,
carried away like so much dust by an attentive housekeeper.
Your mortality had always been a fear,
not just of mine, but of yours as well;
I still recall clearly your words,
saying we may not have much time,
but we'd always have our little infinity together.
I remember as more tears fall, heavier now--
where the dust had been there now remained a void,
a cavernous vacuity of desolation,
echoing back at me the curses I spit out at the world,
at God for being so cruel as to play such a sick joke;
how can one love so furiously only to have their flame extinguished so soon?
So young?
"Where is the justice!" I scream, my throat choking the words out in barbed tatters.
It's beyond my control, and already come to pass;
nobody is at fault, yet a beautiful human life is tragically wasted.
Blessed apathy settled in for the evening,
taking me to bed in her arms, with an embrace like an old friend returned from war.
Days go by.
Waves build upon the horizon and move ashore,
rising, swelling, screaming deafening cacophonies on their approach...
and wash over my feet as I stand in the surf,
gentle and harmless, sweeping away and back out to sea.
It's all so surreal,
a dream of the damned to suffer whilst awake,
generating a longing for it to just end--
WAKE UP!
You're there beside me in our bed, snoozing lightly.
I shake you awake, babble out an explanation amid sobs and sighs,
blessed relief overcoming me as I feel your touch upon my brow,
the gentle smile I always adored forming as you tell me it'll all be okay--
a promise, that: one sealed with a kiss and soothing shushes--
I return from this reverie of dissociation to discover I'm still awake,
the dish in my hands unable to get any cleaner than it already is.
Another gently growing roar of an approaching wave calls through the air.
I turn to face it and am slammed full-force by a tsunami,
spinning and reeling every which way as I am carried along,
helplessly,
grasping about and crying out for help under the surface of this raging torrent.
Water fills my lungs, my cries cease;
nothing.
I put the plate away with the others.
More days pass; the emotional surge has landed me upon higher ground.
I've learned to see the waves not as destructive,
for inherently there lies no malice in them,
no more than in the rays of the sun which can scorch in prolonged exposure.
My head remains above the water,
my lungs taking in the fresh air of a new day,
brought in aloft by a cool winter front--
inhale, exhale; just breathe.
My words don't choke me anymore,
for the bottleneck has been cleared enough to allow passing traffic,
a seemingly sensible return to normality.
My verbosity once again reigns supreme,
though perhaps not so detrimentally in this current circumstance;
the words flow as though from a great river,
perhaps that of the Styx,
but soothe like a healing elixir helping to purge poisons from oneself.
This shall be a process,
one which I know not the timeline of,
yet one that isn't to be undergone alone and sedated,
administered by hungover surgeons on an unassuming patient.
This messy amalgamation of tears, prayers, gnawing nausea and more frequent pauses of peace--
is this healing? Is it the growth I seek out of this stupendous affair?
Perhaps, but I cannot answer quite fully just yet,
for each new dawn brings untold surprises for those who awaken unto it.
It is said that death is certain, but life is not;
this waking dream is slowly fading into obscurity,
the threads of it giving way to the majesty of existence upon our mortal plane.
We told each other we came from the same dying star,
cast into the universe together in a final eruption of magnificent brilliance:
separated in the cosmos, adrift upon the seas of time and space,
yet we landed on the same little rock as the other,
took form,
and reunited our spirits,
the iron in our veins familiar to each of us as the catalyst that signaled the death knell of our origins.
Twin flames shall not disappear, even if one goes dim;
forge another candle to hold onto, craft it as lovingly as your gentle hands can:
I'll find you again, wherever we end up next,
ready to share my flame, willingly and tenderly,
and illuminate yours once more.
