The Elephant in My Cell

You came at a bad time.

A terribly, terribly bad time.

You showed up the moment I couldn’t stand to touch you.

I was afraid you were never going to come.

I should have been glad you came, but why am I not relieved?

Is it that crippling fear that the moment I touch you, you fade away like a ghost?

Is it that you might be a whistleblower looking for an insecurity to use against me later?

Or is it that you are trying to distract me from tending to my garden before it dies of thirst?


I want to shout, “Why didn’t you come sooner?!”

I want to shout, “Where were you when I needed you most?!”

I want to yell at the top of my lungs, “Would it kill you to tell me what’s driving you away from me?!!”

But I am too nice. Too kind and gentle to scream and point to the elephant in the room.

The very elephant that a sorcerer pulled out of his hat and crippled both of my limbs.


I never wanted to call for help because it reinforces the notion that I should still be in high school.

I’ve crawled around all year avoiding the other teenage drama queens that worship dragons.

Seems like they forgot that dragons like to steal our fortunes and our hearts. Before they eat them.


Spending time with my open-minded little brother has planted a seed of doubt in my head.

A seed that gets me thinking that all love does to me is waste my time experimenting with false hope.


My imaginary nights with a fallen angel goes along the lines of;

“Yes, yes, honey, shower me with hugs and kisses. Oh, my love, how I yearn for you.

Pleasure me with your lust until the water in your veins runs out and you become a raisin.

Only then, will I toss you in the sun and wonder why the hell I’ve never gotten lucky.”

When will the water cycle end for the both of us?

What compels Venus to bewitch me to make bad choices?

Why else do you think independent seekers with degrees in hand avoid commitment?

Our grandparents and parents are more patient than our generation is now

Because compared to us, they tended to their gardens and their raisins.

You did a bang-up job tending to me by showering me with promises you can’t keep,

With complex wisdom about human nature, stories of your struggle to get your education over with,

And the snuggles and touches that I wished were real more than the chains I dream of shattering.


You’ve made this game look so easy, you know?

All that had impressed me about you lately is how you’ve lured me into your arms,

Only to neglect me without warning when the sun was at its hottest.

Part of me does not wish to see you go because I tolerate the pain that your absence has left behind.

You scarcely have time on your hands, but would you care to join me for a cup of jasmine tea?

It won’t take long. What I want to know next is what else is new that you have yet to tell me?




Dependent and difficult,
Strangling the life away,
Unable to let go,
Until they decay.


We can chop at you,
Take you down,
But the damage is done,
Wear your crown.


Your seed moves on,
From giving tree to giving tree,
Promise and give,
Let them be free.


And strangle again,
Mute their strings,
Pressing against their neck,
More pain you bring.

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As I stand in an oh-so quiet room, and feel my strained, tired heart go boom, I look around and see many, many people staring at me. Why won't they just let me be? Why am I here for them to see? Well... because they're just like me. I was a fresh, healthy young man who strived to be the best that I can. I ran and sang and, with others, had fun. Then society had to shoot me with a gun.

I worked in an office. It became a stressful and frantic place. When I was given papers to sort, it never was with grace. Get it out of my face! The workload grew just too much, and I grew cold to the touch.  I then found a friend, a friend which I could never end. every day, I would go out of my way to buy, to buy more forms of my friend. I ordered some more which Amazon would send. It was a spiral into darkness, just like my colleague David Harkness. 

My wife left me... I was free! No, I was a selfish bastard! No consideration for others, neither my daughters or my brothers. They also parted ways, because of my delusional gaze. Then I was left in this cold, cold world. That empty Vodka bottle? That's what I hurled. I hurled it at society, far from soberiety, filled with anxiety. What a riot, eh? My whiskey, oh whiskey! That warm burn should have made my stomach churn, and caused me to gurn. it didn't! It made me feel at home. At home in my warm bed, next to my wife, reminding me of my 'good life'. 

My brain was prayin', prayin' for mercy. Wow! I miss a chat with my pal Percy. Memories came flooding, flooding back. Wow, no balance! I fell and cracked my back. I'd had far too much of the good old 'Jack. I woke up in hospital. I was back! The doctors told me I had a heart attack. Last night the world seemed black, but really, that's utter cack! 

I chose, as I rose, that I would never drink again. Hey, actually, I'll pick up my pen. Writing is a hobby, and I'm not meaning to sound gobby, like my neighbour Bobby. It escalated again, very, very quickly. The thought of ginny made me very, very tickly. Oh no! It's happened again. 

Three months later I had a stroke. I know, what a joke! Now I'm fine, unlike the wine. With motivation, and medication, I pulled myself upwards, upwards from that dark, dark spiral. Today, the sun will shine!

Now I'm here, standing before you all, pretending I hate my alcohol. I've now opened up to you, and I know you will to me too. I will get the better of 'the brew'! Time to introduce myself finally eh? I hope to get better, I will prey! Now I can give that board in the hall a tick. Hi, my name is Nick Wall, and I'm an alcoholic!




I finally settled comfortably in my seat, gingerly pulled the bookmark from “Solomon’s Papers” and easily picked up where I had left off yesterday. 

The scenery outside the window changed ever rapidly as the train gained speed.

A shrill steam whistle announced that we were well on our way and before long the gray cityscape was left behind and green suburbia came into view….such a stark transformation as though an artist had purposely drawn a line between the two.

I was relieved to be leaving the choking city-air and at last on my way to the country.

Aunt Bell was probably putting the finishing touches on my room right this very minute.  White ruffled curtains and lavender floral printed wallpaper, pink chenille bedspread and of course lying at the bottom of the four-poster bed would be Clancy, my fluffy orange tabby all waiting to welcome me back home.

I was pleasantly distracted by visions of Auntie’s old farmhouse and the fragrance of her gardens and the Wisteria that dripped from arching trellises along the brick walkway that led up to the porch steps.  Memory of the meadow waving with green grass where the big red barn was situated near giant oaks was especially pleasing to me.  I had spent many lazy afternoons under those trees and many more tending to the horses and cows she housed in the barn.   Brown chickens always underfoot had free range in the shady yard that surrounded the house.  The rustling music of leaves as I sipped iced tea on the porch echoed in my head and my book fell unattended onto my lap. 

The conductor had been patiently standing over me for a few moments while I was lost in my reverie.  He touched my shoulder and I snapped to a little embarrassed.  He punched my ticket and moved on smiling as he approached the next passenger. 


I took a deep breath and succumbed to the lulling motion of the train.  The rhymic clickety-clack of the wheels against the track eventually became the back and forth creaks of Aunt Bell’s rocking chair on the front porch.  Cicadas buzzed somewhere in the trees and Bluebirds gathered on the picket fence to gossip.  The sun was high in the sky and it flashed through the trees as they swayed in a warm breeze.  Clancy flapped his bushy tail to the rhythm of the rocking chair and he seemed to fight sleep as his oval eyes opened and closed. 
Nothing pressing here to think about and the world beyond my view from this shaded porch has no affect on us….it exists all on its own….it has no jurisdiction here.  Mine is the world that will someday encroach upon the sadness and blight outside of here.  The brilliance that radiates from this place is more powerful than the dreariness that pervades the lives of victims and executioners on the other side of the sun.   


The train chugged on and the sun slipped below the horizon.  Far off treetops and rolling hills silhouetted against the violet aftermath of the day.

Dinner was surprisingly delicious and satisfying.  I held the last of my wine with one hand and my book with the other and tried to finally settle in for a good read.  But, even a spellbinding thriller couldn’t keep me from the excitement I felt.  I was so anxious to be going home at last after five years of imprisonment that seemed more a bad dream than an actual event.  Five painful years paid out for an act I did not perpetrate….an act which anyone who knows me would never have attribute to me.

It was a hit and run of a seven-year-old boy child and those in charge immediately labeled me as “mindlessly cold hearted”.  They claimed to have studied my demeanor and concluded I was “lacking in expected emotions” and therefore “sociopathic by nature”.  They needed me to be a monster to justify what had happened.


It wasn’t me though in the car.  It was my twin sister, Beth.  My younger sister who had always faulted me for her shortcomings resulting from a difficult birth was the one driving illegally that stormy morning.  She’d lost control of the car when a dog jutted into the street.  She swerved speeding into the last child to board the school bus on the corner.

He had just kissed his mother goodbye when Beth ended his life in an instant that probably felt more like an eternity.  She didn’t stop there.  With the dead child hoisted onto the hood of the car she proceeded up onto the front lawn of the house on the corner and it finally came to rest with a thunderous collision with concrete front steps.  Out of her mind with panic she put the car into reverse leaving the lifeless body sprawling and managed the driveway for her getaway.

With only the mother of the boy, a bus load of screaming children and the driver as witnesses her escape was quick and easy.
Beth never had a driver’s license.  Beth was handicapped from birth.  Although she was seventeen she had the wits and emotions of a five year old.  She was just a child herself.  In the days before the accident she had pestered me repeatedly to let her drive the car down the driveway, “just for fun”.  Beth was always pushing her boundaries in life and naturally used me to help her. 

But, this was one thing I could not let her guilt me into doing for her.  I told her over and over, “No, Bethy, its too dangerous.  Even for people who have learned to drive it’s a very dangerous thing.”

I was relieved when she’d given the subject up and moved on to something relatively benign like walking the dog by herself.


I loved Beth deeply.  She was of course part of me and I probably suffered undeniably from the guilt she imposed on me for having been born first and healthier.  Enduring her unkind accusations was my sentence and I accepted it willingly.  I often questioned why indeed it was not me who was given the fallible genes instead of Beth.

I used to cry with frustration that I could not change what fate had inflicted on this person who was probably my better half.


She woke earlier than me that morning.  Her child-like mind was surprisingly able to concoct a simple by successful plan to steal my car keys and slip away undetected with the car.  The only time she’d ever been behind the wheel was to “pretend steer” as she called it.  She was observant though and had watched me many times turn the key and shift the gear to D with one foot on the brake then roll slowly down the driveway to the road.    Today, her motivation was simplistic….to take something that had been denied with no plan beyond the driveway.  My little Beth rarely honored the word ‘no’.


Somehow she’d managed to bring the limping car back home before my alarm clock sounded off.

Hysterical and soaking she threw herself on top of me still in bed.

Through tears and terror she stammered out what had happened at the bus stop.  As she struggled to explain she pleaded for me to save her…to make everything all right….she was “so sorry”….so stricken…such a frail, precious child. 


Her frantic voice trailed off as I imagined taking full blame in her place.  Planning what reason I would formulate for being on the road at such an early hour when high school classes didn’t start for more than two more hours. 

Realizing I needed to calm Beth down and get her cleaned up before Aunt Bell and Uncle Josh woke I took on the challenge.  The urgency of the situation called for quick thinking and only raw will would carry me though.   To this day I can’t remember all the details of that morning or what I did next.  I reacted as though on autopilot.

With the grace of God I’d convinced Beth that everything would be all right if she could be a big girl and follow all my instructions carefully.  My strength seemed to run down my arms and into her as I held her tight against my chest stroking her dampened hair.  We rocked for a few moments that seemed more like an hour and I sang her favorite lullaby…”lul-i-lul-i-baby, ah-a-ah-a-baby”.  Soothed the tension in her seemed to drain and in turn gave me the courage I needed to work this problem out and protect her. 




Months later, when the trial was over I was found guilty of vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident.   I was sentenced to five years with no time served applied. It was not enough for the parents of the little boy of course.  They wanted me executed.  I felt their pain but that was all I could do for them.  If they only knew how much I was really sacrificing. But, it was ok.  I’d have done anything; even give up a part of my life to save Beth from a far worse fate than mine. 

Aunt Bell knew of course, without being told that it wasn’t me that morning who’d driven so recklessly and slammed into that innocent child.  Beth had gone a little deeper into her psychosis, which could well have been brought on by having her routine disrupted suddenly.  But, Auntie was too bonded with us to accept that was the reason. It was the duty of knowing that what she had done had caused this upheaval in her life.  We were two years old when our parents were killed in a plane crash while returning from a vacation in Europe and we came to live with her and Uncle Josh.


Beth broke down the morning I was scheduled to turn myself in and gushed as though a dike had finally been broken in her.   She understood that I was leaving her for a “long time”….although she didn’t comprehend how long five years was she felt it was going to be longer than the summer. 


We peeled away from each other the day I left.  My heart shattered into a million pieces as I watched from the rear window as she ran behind the car as we drove off down the shady lane of home.  I saw Aunt Bell rush to her and hold her up as she wailed helplessly.  My little Beth….what will I do without you?  What will you do without me?




And now the time has come to see Bethy and Aunt Bell again…to return home….to the most beautiful place on Earth.  Uncle Josh had passed away in his sleep during the first year I was gone.  For the gentle man he had been it was a fitting exit.

Aunt Bell brought Beth to visit with me in the city jail only on our birthday.  It was an ordeal for her to get in the car and travel that road even when it meant seeing me. 

She kept up the lie even though Auntie had talked with her about it and let her know that she knew what had actually transpired. But, all in all Beth had changed during our time apart.  She had to make her own way without help from big sis.  It could have moved her in the wrong direction and befuddled her but we found that she was a much stronger person than anyone had given her credit for being.  She blossomed like a heady rose.


Maybe it was fate that was playing out and all the events that have occurred up to this very moment were meant to happen for a specific result.  A whole host of “what” questions epiphanized for me.  For instance, as cruel as it seemed what would Beth’s life have been had she not been forced to think for herself and take care of her own needs without the help of her stronger twin?   What advancements would she have been able to make and under what circumstances?  What state would my own life be in had I continued to placate Beth out of guilt for being different than she?   What would the toll on me have been for constantly meeting the demands of an enabled dependant twin?


I had many questions, the answers to which were really not important in the end.  The fact was that things worked as they did for good reasons and they were good because I recognized them as such.  Beth and I each, through suffering had grown stronger benefiting our own individual weaknesses.  She through necessity and I through the giving of myself for the sake of another had each met our destinies perfectly up to now.  

My heart ached to see her again.  It had been a year since her last visit and that one didn’t last long enough.  A mere fifteen minutes to hug and exchange a few stories wasn’t nearly enough time.  But, today we would have dinner together for the first time in five years and we would talk and talk until we fell asleep.  The past will remain in the past.  It need not be drudged up or be justified endlessly.  We would carry on as though nothing notable had occurred between us.  Even the memory of the little boy would be put to rest.  What was done was done.  Everything was all right now.





The proud locomotive hissed and squealed as it ground to a halt at the Roseville Station.

I had spent a day and a half traveling home and the stiffness of my muscles was well worth the discomfort.  All at once I couldn’t remember where my book was or what I had done with my satchel or the figurine of a tabby cat that I had picked out for Beth at the last stop.

My mind raced about the train car like a ping-pong ball gone wild.
The sudden lurch of the train stopping left me unsteady…and then I saw her.  She was wearing a white eyelet dress and her long, dark hair was pulled back and held with a blue satin ribbon that rested loosely on her right shoulder.  She had an expression of worry as she searched the faces of the people who exited the train.  Aunt Bell off stood in the shade smiling that wonderful smile of hers. 

I snapped into action and grabbed the box with the tabby cat and my baggage and mindlessly pushed my way up the isle to the exit door.   Beth spotted me instantly and her arms flew up and she shrieked with jubilation, “Bonnie! Here I am, Bonnie! Here!!!”  The kind, smiling conductor helped me with my bags and I dove into Beth’s waiting arms.  She had grown quite a bit since I’d seen her and she lifted me off my feet in a bear hug.  Oh it so was good to be home again!  Home again with my little Beth and my sweet Auntie Bell !

After much chatter and hugging Aunt Bell shuffled us into the car and off we went.

I had come full circle.  I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.  There truly was no place like home!

”Clancy seemed to know something was up today”, Aunt Bell said as we turned into the driveway.  Everything looked the same.  Even the flowers had kept their places.  The same cows, Daisy and her calf that had grown into a fine heffer waited, chewing at the fence.  Uncle Josh’s beloved horses looked up from their grazing to see who had come by.  And there was Clancy…..still looking handsome as ever….prancing along the porch railing butting his head on the posts.  I called to him and he sprang onto the ground chattering as he tippy-toed toward me.  He hadn’t forgotten me.  I never felt so safe and so loved.
The exhilaration of seeing home unchanged right down to the welcoming wisteria was like finding out that Heaven really did exist.  Nothing could ever hurt me again. 


Later that evening we three sat on the front porch and talked about Uncle Josh and how pleased he must be that we were all together again.  Beth and I sat clinging on the porch swing, not saying much…just enjoying the moment we’d both waited so long to share.  There was plenty of time to talk so for right then it was sweet just to sit and enjoy the sunset. Clancy curled himself up between us insisting on a belly scratch and as I looked out at the pink, fading sky I thought for the very last time about that dreary world on the other side of the sun.



The End


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IF I Depend Upon You

If you attach yourself to me
I no longer exist
If I depend upon you
You dissolve
If I expect you to provide for me
I diminish your capacity for liberty
If you hold an idea of what I should be
I am drowned in a sea of make-believe
If you desire anything from me
I cease to be
If I call upon you to relieve my anxiety
I fail not only you but me
If I cannot stand apart from you
I can in no way stand beside you
If we acknowledge sacred unity
Without sin of embroiled restriction
We are free to embrace love
Unencumbered and unrefined
Sensually uninhibited as it is meant to be

Paula Andrea Pyle, MA 2011(c)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ineffable Beauty and Unspeakable Grace come from the same source: the glorious power of inexpressible love. We, as humans, are allowed to view glimpses of it, brush by hints of it, hear melodic molecules dancing in the wind, but never are we submerged in its effervescent sacred omnipotence. We somehow delude ourselves to the point of believing we enmesh ourselves in it. Nothing could be further from the raw truth. We only scrape the surface,breathe a mere wisp, scantily touch the hem of the garment by imagining a human depiction of its true magnificence. The moment we reach out to grasp hold of it, it dissipates.

Heartmeld, First Move, Declaration Of Dependence



Long before their
minds did merge
their 2 hearts melded
beating faithfully
as one drum


Because each loves the
other unconditionally..
and neither is a child
.. each made the first move
when they reconciled

(to Mrs and Mr Ray E
of Colorado)


A declaration of Love
is a declaration of dependence..
none are complete
til all are One


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