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EXISTENCE

The Light and Dark of Truth - Part VII

By Rebecca A Hyde GonzalesPublished 12 months ago Updated 12 months ago 6 min read
1
EXISTENCE
Photo by Bogdan Pasca on Unsplash

Continued from Part VI

UNREQUITED

If it exists; it remains out of reach.

Dodging, twisting, racing, shrinking away

I had it once upon a time - true love.

Or so I thought - ripping, shredding, tearing

It left me - completely. Alone in the dark.

Believing once of Faith, Hope, Charity, Love

Virtues often lauded within sacred text.

A knight in shining armour - no, mercenary

With twin rapiers strapped across his back

My virtues stripped and laid bare - sprawling - lifeless -

Left for dead.

Stretched across the un-sodden earth;

Naked

Ashamed

Alone

And he with his unsheathed,

bloody rapiers; thrusting; carving away pieces

Taking what he owned.

Festering - fibrous cancer - all that remains

Broken - battered - beaten - barren - betrayed.

Faith: belief or trust in the unseen -

trusting love exists.

Without my shade - the rapier’s senseless sacrifice -

My compass lost -

True love out of reach - the rapier’s cost.

Broken; soul to soul, I heard your voice - a plea

An echo of my own - kindred spirit - unknown

A seed planted - kindness sprouted

An echo back to me.

What was it that you said? Or was it how you said it?

Feelings long buried sprung up - reaching - grasping

Rootless - shrivelling away.

Oh troubled heart - not free to love another

Tethered to lovelessness - longing to break free.

My soul, trapped in its cage of bones

Fingers clasped tightly - ribs aching, cracking.

Lungs restricted; laboured breathing - shaking.

You looked at me - my heart leaping from sorrow into hope

dragged back down

The pit - so dark - so isolated - lost - alone.

You draw near - I hear the ebb and flow of your breath

Your warm embrace imagined; my head resting on your chest.

You speak - I watch - curious - lips; are they soft?

Your tenderness; your caress - my broken heart - beating.

I sit staring at the rapiers on the wall - sheathed -

There they remain.

Afraid to pass them and cross the threshold

To the freedom and release;

out there; somewhere.

You, the beacon, in the darkness, leading me,

Beaconing me - shackled where I stand

And you - out of reach.

Imagined - your touch, your caress, your embrace.

Iron chains; in your place

And you - unaware.

Holding my shade.

So with the dagger drawn from between my breasts

With a single cut - I remove the pain -

rising away on ethereal wings;

Yet, you remain.

Another cut - fueled passion; flames and dies -

ash and cinder scattered across the night skies.

Yet, you remain.

Once more - grasping; your lips and hands out of reach -

cherry blossoms flung away

Yet, you remain.

Cold, unyielding steel against my flesh

A sigh escapes my untouched lips - a whispered “please”

Acquiesced, relinquished life.

Still, you remain.

I marvel at the gaping wounds, where flesh and sinew meet

Crimson beads, slowly rising

Tears flowing - washing - welling up

Love’s well-spring overflowing;

You remain.

You, my soulmate - never knowing;

Cradling my shade.

I retrace each cut a little deeper -

a little longer - stinging. Hoping to cut it all away.

Pressed against the skin - I drive the silver blade - leaving its white shadow.

Releasing; lifting - flesh falling away - beautiful scarlet lines revealed -

All that remains.

Muscles contracting and veins weeping

Through blinding tears I see.

You remain:

Forbidden, unrequited, my love.

My Shade.

"Mom, I'm home." Marcus's deep voice rumbled softly as he knelt close to his sleeping mother, taking her hand in his own. Anna opened her eyes and smiled up at her son. He was the spitting image of her father. They shared the same eyes, nose, and chin. Their smiles were identical and even the thick crazy windblown hair.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. A little tired, I guess."

"Would you like me to get you anything?"

"Shouldn't that be the question I ask my son, who has traveled from Versailles to see his mother?"

"Mom, I am here for you."

"I know."

"Would you like to go for a walk? It is really nice outside and it will give you a chance to stretch your legs."

"That sounds nice."

Anna and Marcus headed out the back door to the orchard and within moments Missy and Poh came dashing up to say hello. Taking Marcus's arm, Anna led her companions into "The Woods" - a name she had given her orchard. The trees were lush and dense. The further they walked from the house, Anna could feel her magnetic attire vibrate, working to keep her upright. Marcus turned and looked at his mother: "Is that vibration coming from you?"

"Yes, it is." Anna smiled and started to laugh.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It is quite comfortable. It is also quite soothing - I really like it." After a pause: "A simple pleasure."

"So, Lorina is coming home tonight, too?"

"Yes. Dad and I thought it would be nice to have a little family time." Anna became thoughtfully quiet.

"Okay. Is there anything that you would like to do?"

"No. Just spend time with my kids." They both stopped, turning to look at each other.

"Mom, you know I love you."

"I know, son."

"Lorina and Dav love you too."

"I know."

"Mom," Marcus took in a deep breath and continue: "I am a little worried. When I walked through the door you were laying so still, and I... Mom..."

"It's okay, Marcus. I'm not going anywhere." Anna squeezed her son's hand and continued walking through her orchard. "Hey, did I ever tell you why I planted all of these trees?"

"No. But I know that you love trees and that almost all of your stories have detailed passages of orchards, forests, and clearings."

"Your grandfather would take me camping every summer. There was one campground that was thousands of acres with rolling hills, streams, ravines, oaks, and pines. The western border was outlined by a river that ran icy cold all year round. I wrote about it many years ago."

"I didn't know that."

"This orchard is named after a short story I had entered in a contest - which I won." Anna paused and looked at her son, who was beaming. "I was thinking about some of my old stories and poems and I was wondering if you would go through them and organize them? I would like to have them printed and bound with illustrations."

"Wow! That sounds cool."

"I want you to illustrate the book."

"I would be honored."

"When we get back to the house I will show you where everything is."

"Sounds good."

Fast-approaching footsteps interrupted the conversation. Anna and Marcus turned to see Victor and Lorina coming up the path toward them. In moments, the four of them stood together laughing and hugging each other. It was during this warm embrace, that Anna realized how important her family was and asked if they could return to the house.

PART VII

Short StoryFantasyfamily
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About the Creator

Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales

I started writing when I was about eight years old. I love to read and I also love to create. As a writer and an artist, I want to share the things that I have learned and experienced. Genres: Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and history.

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