half in sorrow, half defiant

I

Through the hours. Through the twilight, the darkness. Waiting. The ground slips, the silence; immense. Husks, everywhere. Where they came from, nothing was different. And yet, much is leaden. This mouth full of sawdust. Here is home. And now, they wait. Through the hours. Where colours find no refuge, waiting persists. Perhaps they are missed, somewhere.

II

So be it, they agreed. How to decide, the eldest quizzed. They seemed united, certainly, absorbed as they were. “Where to?” Pondered the smallest. It blooms in his gaze. Not like here, for here lie only ashes. Here is not that, and that, is not here.

III

One doesn't speak. For a while now, very gently, she weaves. “Take this thread” she gestures. All that remains is to listen.

IIII

The silent one speaks of leafless vines, of the daring sea and the plains. Defiance is also present. And sorrow. What is being shared, some ask. They ask. Some: “Aren't we lost, here, within ourselves?” Filled. But sparingly.

IIII

Out. Yes, it is time. They scatter in many directions. And there’s silence. They move– in the distance, mere lines. And it is dark, yet no one seeks light. “Why should they?” The smallest one thinks.

IIII I

Somewhere– a fire. Now, what now? Is there anything besides this? It seeps into them. That is, it dawns. Initially, hesitantly, it tickles their feet. Tinged by their drifting. And then, before it reaches them, it dares not to go further. Their heads remain in nothingness. Only twilight resides here.

IIII II

How the years drag on. “You’ve seen many, haven’t you?” He remains silent, eager, and: “Enough, yes. Enough”. “Where to then, and also where from?” The young one asks. “To where it’s different; there. From where it’s always the same; here” he replies. They swallow dust as they walk. “Why here, and not there?” And the young one points to where the sun bends, towards morning. “For no reason”, the old one snaps. His voice leaves him, and he catches it in his fist. “No, not fleeing”.

IIII III

And then they find reason. Tentative at first, but then clear. “Well, we go. You there, you over there, and me here. We go”. She has lost her courage. Together, before they part, they think of the crackling. Menacing, yes. But warm. “We go”, meaning, “you go, and I’ll stay”.

IIII IIII

Just one day of preparation. Whispering, rummaging. And then they come. Winds with thorny hair. Drifting toads, they know not where. Bleeding mountains, it’s terrible. And there, they get closer. Your back is rough. I’ll stay, and so do they. Yes, in the evening, it's ablaze. But no one wants to.

IIII IIII

The small one: “No, not today. Today, I should present my recommendation. It states why I'm here and why you, perhaps, with me. But, I don’t know. Maybe, it’s different. Tell me, what do you see here? Why don’t you leave with me? And ultimately, why is there always such turmoil. Here, take it. Feel; my hand is cold. My breath empty. And you. Or rather: Leave”.

IIII IIII I

They lie in knots. The small one, off to the side, walks in circles. Unclear how many times the moon has collapsed. If the sun ever greeted it. How much longer to twist. How to heal when the veins are full. It presses on him.
He dreams. And there, an awakening. Where only dreams linger, it confronts him. Wants to be lived. Where dreams end, that’s where he wants to head. And he falls. Is he crying? It’s just the wind.

IIII IIII II

He is like them. And thus, he remembers. He writes: 

What is it like when two become one?
Don’t be bitter: only half is the weight.
Be humble: only half is the weight.
Don’t stay with me: only half is the weight.

Then he takes the letter, devours it.

IIII IIII III

And there, as if on a signal, they move . Waiting, as if something is there. They see it. Open hands, outstretched. And yet, something is different. Yes, they perceive it. As if a branch had fallen from stony heights: into a hole full of wrinkles.

IIII IIII IIII

Settle down. A crevice, almost a home. And finally. Here, the voices haunt the ceiling. The clouds are thick. And they chase each other, laughter, shouts. This evening, if it is one, they savour themselves. They reach for remnants, consume each other. Today, it can end. Not always in haste. Not jagged with discontent and morning.

IIII IIII IIII

Hesitantly, they become festive. Doubt clings fiercely. Why freeze when I’ll give you mine, and you; yours. Warmth where bodies were twain. Or even more, who knows that. A single mass. With heads, with many. There was a bond, enjoyment, profound dissatisfaction.

IIII IIII IIII I

And no one is what the other is not. Yet, they are all islands. It’s like helplessness, yet different. Before, yes, before there was madness. The little one sits and can’t believe it. He sits and forgets what belief means. That is, if he ever knew. Hoarsely, words pile up.

IIII IIII IIII II

Somewhere there, the dream ends. She lingers in the haze. That’s her honesty. Yet, she is entangled: “Are you everything? Carry me”.

IIII IIII IIII III

How can one awaken, she thinks, when youth is a fog, and old age a willow?

IIII IIII IIII IIII

A crack in the rock where time does not dictate. It still trickles wearily where the last ones don’t want to. Why don’t we stay? It's not meant to be. No, to pass away, it cannot. And if it does pass, so be it. The crack can close; it takes nothing.

IIII IIII IIII IIII

Something has collapsed, and it appears important. Yes, debris, that’s where they thrive. No, they don’t know each other. What’s there to know?

IIII IIII IIII IIII I

At the entrance, boulders pile up. “Take it, I can’t”. And there they offer the night what it did not insist on. Is it flashing? Almost like solace. Out there, it’s spinning. The few things they cherish, scattered wildly, don’t seek to be needed.

IIII IIII IIII IIII II

Wait, there was no water. It soaks every crevice. Are you the wind? Nothing can shake them from the slumber hidden beneath lids, etched by yearning. They were many, and now they are one.

IIII IIII IIII IIII III

How could it be any different; tumult. Things scattered. A tearing apart, a leap into dresses. A search, without finding. And they disperse. There must be calm somewhere. Here is a roar, shredding silence. How can it be? The first ones hurry outside. The sky overwhelms them.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII

There are cries: where to.
A groan from the heights.
There are curses: why.
A race, a separation.
There is courage: for what.
And finally: they go.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII

And the smallest one. He rummages. Lifts rocks, there’s nothing to gain. And then he throws. Stones through the lamenting halls. Grabs them. Past the rolling, the trembling, the no-longer-wanting. Wrapped up in a tattered rag. He enters the clearing. They see him, burdened.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII I

They shout, they pull. Yet he is content. He has seen, and where there are ashes, it blooms.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII

They left, what else could they do. It is bitter.