173 — Omphaloskepsis

Since conception I've been tethered--codependent on someone. I drag with me my umbilical cord, pulsatile with my life. It begins--on me; but it ends on a clump of receptive tissue seeking purchase of my next attachment.

Artery and vein, taking and receiving. The circulatory dynamics are such that I can't control the balance. Most relationships are two-way, an interchange, an exchange transfusion.

Of attachment. Of will.

Sometimes one vessel is gorged with my outflow. Sometimes the other collapses its walls, denying exchange. Sometimes--simultaneously--the gorging flows out while collapse prohibits a fair trade.

That is my life with you.

You take, I give; I give all, but you fail to reciprocate. What kind of a cord is this, when the clump of receptive tissue conspires in partnership with this rout? One end of the cord gluts and laughs; the other end--me--gasps for breath.

You are suffocating me!

My fetal arrest is finalized by your gaslight nurturing. I cannot have a life of my own, tethered to you via a cord with a true knot in it.

I attempt retreat to distance myself from you. That knot tightens. Of course it tightens; then the circulation is constricted.

That!

That's why it's so hard to pull completely away. The more I try, the harder it is; and the more hypoxic I become.

Yours is a sensibility that the more rope I'm allowed, the more likely I'll hang myself. A completely taut knot allows no flow of life at all. Asphyxiation via a knot or enough rope to wrap my neck--there is no difference.

But I try. I must.

I venture. I stray. The knot tightens. My life force falls. I am doomed to failure--to perpetual tethering to you. The hypoxia hurts. I am desperate to take a breath. A cleansing breath. But while the hypoxia hurts, the knot doesn't.

The cord by which I'm tethered has no nerve endings. Thus, it doesn't hurt when I cut it.

I'm finally on my own. And nothing feels better than my first honest inhalation of fresh air, signifying my rebirth. And while birth is fraught with pain and cries, the pain falls away to you and my cries are those of joy.

__________

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This was inspired by the "top story," Cutting Cord Ritual (at https://vocal.media/poets/cord-cutting-ritual), a powerful poem by Kay Husnick.

For Friday, June 21, the second-longest day of the year, Day 173 of the Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title-accompaniment photo was AI-generated but the metaphor was not.

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Read them. Support them. Pray for them. And watch as they're given enough rope...