I have been down before, but I am never out.
Against the self-seeking winds I scream. The winds carry my voice into the ether and they are gone.
Meaningless and empty. Void. Pitch. Silent.
And still I persist.
I have been down before, but I am never out.
I strike a match and it is extinguished. I strike another and it breaks.
I strike a third and it flares, revealing the others. Astonished.
The light floods their pupils. They shield themselves. The flame dies.
And yet the hot winds blow, the silence blinds, and the darkness deafens.
And still I persist.
I have been down before, but I am never out.
I pause. I scheme. I plot.
Against the winds. Against the pitch. Against the heat. I reach out.
I find another, and together we fumble. We find a third. And another. And another…
And yet the hot winds blow, the silence blinds, and the darkness deafens.
And still I persist.
I have been down before, but I am never out.
Without warning, they vanish.
And then the laughter. The inevitable, unceasing, maddening laughter.
“Fuck you!” I scream in silence. The laughter is gratified and grows.
And yet the hot winds blow, the silence blinds, and the darkness deafens.
My head splits. My heart breaks. I crumble to the ground, unable to sob, let alone move.
I have been down before, and perhaps I am out.
Coward. Abdicater. Invertebrate. Get up! This is not new!
But the winds were not always so hot. The silence was not always so dark.
The darkness was never so complete.
I have been down before, and this time I am out.
Mocking, the sun rises.
The darkness that deafened me retreats. My sight fills with the odor of spring.
In the light, I hear the smoldering coals.
In the ashes, I find the remnants.
Of books, of paintings, of music, of photos.
Of bodies.
So much lost, immutably sacrificed.
Blood drips down an altar, and horrified, I scream
At the top of my lungs, eyes shut.
The hot winds have gone now, and the thunder of my voice echoes through the daylight.
I rage. I weep.
I am revealed.
In the stillness that follows a single voice calls me.
Not the name of my birth.
Not my number and not my title.
The solitary voice calls out again.
“Daddy.”
I return.
Another voice extends.
“Husband.”
I am whole.
“Son.”
I remember.
“Friend.”
I smile.
“Brother.”
I resolve.
Once again, the ground has shifted. Nothing remains. So much has been lost.
I can take no comfort in rest.
There are houses to build, songs to sing, words to speak and wisdom to earn.
Lives to cherish.
So much is gone. So much is wasted.
Over the hill, battles still rage, fires continue to burn, and armies collect their spoils.
Abruptly, I recognize that I am standing.
Slowly I put a foot forward, and then another.
I have somewhere to be.
I have been down before, but I am never out.