Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Tears And Burnishing Anger

I held him gratefully even as he stared into the distance and argued with someone I couldn't see. Have I been here before? I have been here before.

Yet each visit seems to require a mode of increasingly unfamiliar and difficult travel. My feet hurt when I walk barefoot up the road, watching the dogs root through dark grasses. And I am always watched over.

He was not held at the end, which was why I held him. Why does it matter so - ensuring that these men do not have to die alone? I only remembered it days later, as if it had been only a dream, a good one.

No photographs anymore. And even the song doesn't remind me of you the way it once did. We have to die sooner or later - what is there to fight?

Imagine that all dreams are only one dream and we are each contained inside it. Young crows fly rough behind their mother as if even wings can make one stumble. How hot it was, how hot is always is.

Listen: many years of bearing witness have led me here. We all believe in God, it is simply a question of how and to what degree. I cried, telling him how much he meant to me.

I made promises that included the word always. How gentle and loving I am, how kind he was in those days of tears and burnishing anger.

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