9th Testimony- "Kicked in the Dirt"

Dear Haides,

The night time air of dyspeptic inhumane wind blew across the branches of this old broken tree, which one day shall brittle into such, as the old, wise and religious men do. I wonder how much longer until the roots finally sink into the ground, or how much longer until the wooden tree shall use its' sharp and greedy clawed branches to dig another hole in the ground, leaving a new place to hide in. No leaves have grown on those empty rawboned branches for about forty years, henceforward, the tree remains leafless. Since the graveyard was first made my flightless winged soul was born. Since the first disentering soul of a body had penetrated into that empty graveyard, the tree stood perceiving the stones to overlook the horizons in the sky. It is now my turn.

I am not the digger, nor am I the shovel. I am the bones cemented in between the dirt and the fossils. One day I woke up to a realization that what had affected me in the past impacted my being now. Not only is it bedeviling for me to fly, but it is harder to look at myself attempting to fly, then failing. I feel so servile, that my body is aching sore. I am aging on the inside, my chest is aching, sometimes I cannot breathe, or stand up straight. I feel like one of these days I will end up crashing and nobody would be there to help me. Maybe just to watch me curl up and die. I started to make sure I use my own wings to protect my alimony- my soul. I would use my own beak to choose wise words to utter. Perhaps even use my own weighted body to hold myself down as these weighted bricks are pushing me deeper into the cellar, iron-barred grounds.

The hindrance of my fate and mortality is trapped between the empty barrels parted into the pieces of my old oak tree. The only thing I have to hold me up is this tree. Add fuel to the fire, shall I not leave this tree? My fellow friends are now standing in front of me, but I am not here. My shadow is behind each one of them, Haides, oh guardian! I am for thee! I am right here! Sell me your soul or I will sacrifice to you. This shattered rainbow of thoughts has blackness spilling out of my head. My mind, I cannot bear to witness, pours close to its death! I am already solid and dead on the inside. One of these nights I will become the person I have not become.

Thus, here I am, at a point of resurrection and the truth of caring less than often. The once pure heart of joy and sadness had rot into a still, dark stone. I will not allow ignorance to cross bliss, nor will I envy the blessed. The ones you have trusted the most will always pass their moments with you, yet a blood and flesh soul will share the truth. The ones you trust the most betake oneself to, the journey, the truth, again- to cover up a fault. I can feel the snake bite venom enter my bloodstream. My veins burn, but I am not afraid. Haides, I am not for thee, he, nor me. I despise such a thing called love. I despise matrimony and anything holy. I am the dismay that fall upon the eyes and the hindrance of every unbroken heart. I shall sell each piece until the jar is complete. Then, I will shatter it all to the floor and dance around the pile, like I have always done.

I know I may not be so flawless nor am I anywhere near alluring, but I know one thing that is perfect and it is the shield that guards me away from my past wounds. Simple. Stay away. I want to forget it, Haides, I want to forget seeing what I have lost to what I once was able to hold onto. What makes everything worse is my self image is already corrupted due to the fact that I am in complete loathing. I hate myself more each time I keep remembering the damned phoenix who killed me on the inside every time I write. It might make me begin to hate writing itself. I do not think you or anybody would ever understand. If easy was a kind of truth and certainty was a requirement, I would have forgotten about the trench dug into the depth of the taunt and provoking, fertilized ground. I would have forgotten about how much my own blood and a remorse of letting a past go are neglecting my flightless wings. I would have forgotten how long it took to barely heal my scars from the past. I would have remembered what it felt like to be able to fly flawlessly and feel beautiful again- if I never let my writings defeat me. Only my shadow and my blind actions are not seen by you. Neither of you. It is a duty, a right, a safety and protection to do what I am doing; guarding my lifelessness from the face of reality.

Now I must return to my anthemis. I am sorry for such a blunt and short letter, Haides, but I have so much anger hidden underneath my skin, that I cannot release it all at once; otherwise it may hurt others. And even though I am a cold, heartless cormorant, I still care. I care not about myself, for I let the river flow. I care not about my opinions, for nobody listens to each other. It is the truth, Haides, and if you are reading this to inform me that you care do not fool yourself. Nobody should fool themselves. Believing in someone is like a kid believing in Santa Clause. You hope to see him climb through your chimney and send you gifts of the apparatus you have wished for; until you grow to realize that he is not real. Nothing is real. Not even a simple wish.

Regards,

Nyx

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing storyteller. This would be a amazing book. I like the deep thoughts in the chapter.
I agree with the logic in this chapter.
"You hope to see him climb through your chimney and send you gifts of the apparatus you have wished for; until you grow to realization that it is not real. Nothing is real. Not even a simple wish."
I wonder the same things daily. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote