Wednesday, August 14, 2013

As Close As I Can Get

It's too personal. I can't write about it. It would break too many hearts. But it all comes down to a moment, this life. A moment sitting in the dark, knowing that this is the one in which time, living, death and mortality all meet and tell you that you need to make decisions about your own decline -- your own end. 

I can't write about it, because it would break too many hearts too close to me. But I can say there were tears and there was deep love, in that moment, and that there was a desperate need to see deeper, beyond the gathering clouds, below the the foot-sucking, energy-sucking mud. There was such a desperation to see back to that which I once knew so well; depended upon so much; aspired to be. 

This is as close as I can get to expressing it, right now. I ache to make it a novel or a poem that will make you nod and say: "Yes. I see how it is. I would feel the same," or "I once felt the same."

But, as in most things, there are, as John Proctor said, "circles within circles." You want to toss your soul out to the world, but it is tethered -- to you; to the ones who love you; to the ones who would blame you for what you express or damn you for not having expressed it. 

This is enough. This is asking too much patience of you. I don't mean to manipulate, but just to say as much as I can and to ask for whatever energy you all can send, whether through prayer or song or good will. I don't want you to ask what it is about. This time I don't even want you to comment. Just send orisons or smiles or envision your hand on my shoulder, just for a second. 

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