Post #3

Hallelujah, I'm cured.
The Holy Hour has completed its circle once more
And I am cleansed.
Or something.

Today is moving day for me, bits of my life are falling off shelves I haven't tidied in five years.

A Chilling Desire to Please

The whirlwind crashed my slumber - she looked like a ghost in the window, as she screamed, her throat tore;
"They've gone," she cried, "My babies...my boys!"
And she rapped the glass until it shattered.

Inside her head became a landslide, her fingers, her nails ripped at the walls, and I became frozen - too frozen to pick up the phone and call for help. No senses were at hand - vocal chords, statuette, spinning cruelly on a wooden base, echoing her cries.

It felt like murder - I could see it in her eyes while she clung to me. Strangely, I couldn't remain her solace. I was possessed to invade, to collapse my brain and bring them home to her - those lost brothers - those boys.

Unimaginable strength is born from silence, wrenched from burning pains in the pit of the heart. I forgot that i called them 'Sweetness', looked on them as mine - but they were not mine - their fingers, their eyes - they belonged to her. What is borrowed remains unowned. A borrowed bond.

Could they have once been so small tthat i had cradled them until the wails subsided? Yesterday....yesterday. And today, I wake the soliders, the marching warriors, to find them..to trek and trail and bring them home to her - she would not be without them. Her babies.
Her boys.