The evening is raw. There are birds of prey
all around in the sky flying low in concentric circles, unnerved by a human
presence below. They screech their high pitched songs into the moist air, which
cut into my bones and send shivers down my spine. Appearing like mere
silhouettes of their majestic tribe, they beckon the dusk and with each
circumambulation it seems to reach closer and closer. The sky starts to close
on me and soon I am surrounded by fluttering falcons, one of which tears a ligament
right out of my shoulder.
How I loved to watch the sun go down and
bathe in the warmth of its aftermath. Streaks of clouds changing shapes in the
golden gloss, inches above the horizon hooked me tight until they turned grey
and smudgy and I knew it was time to go back home, to the warmth of the hearth.
I loved to walk on my feet and push the earth down with every step. I was in
full control of things in and about my life. Sometimes I walked out of cafes
with my arm around her and she loved to be held so. It was all at this hour,
and it was all mine. Today I lay here still, arms and legs in full directional
projection. They tear deeper into my arm.
When I was young I loved to jump into
things and make mistakes only to hurt myself in the end. What lovely pain! There
were fights and climbing and falls and recoveries from overtly confounded head
rushes. There were people and stories and histories and lonely spells. There were
no things I ever had regrets for, but only that they lasted for a very short
time. Then there was growing up and the process of maturing that gave me
opportunities for new mistakes and fights and falls and love and pain. There were
moments when I was and some when I really was not proud of myself, but no
regrets at living as I did. But was that a short life! One of them tethers its
talons into my bare chest. Rest follow.
There were a thousand dreams and I lived
them all one by one, but with each one a thousand more sprang like hydra and
ran all around like little bunnies. I chased after them each day, caging them
and caressing them, as I ran into her one of those evenings. She looked deeply
into my eyes as I was busy digging up a hole, making some music of own. She snatched
the shovel out of my hand and I knew my soul had met her twin. There were
heartaches and rains and long strains of drizzling love. But all that ended all
too soon.
And I am here now beneath four pairs of
razor sharp beaks and talons. They rip out my heart and it hurts, even though
it doesn’t. I must go far away now, even though I mustn’t. It all has to end up
like this, but the journey was worth all its very while. Soon they will gouge
out my eyes and I will be one with the earth, exposed to further deconstruction.
My memories will however remain in the air, in every heart.