6th Testimony- "Learning to Fly"

Dear Haides,

I now know what an emotional disaster feels like. It is the chaos that is eating my mind, despair circulating through my veins, or perhaps the the cancer that is radiating through my organs. As I peck deeper into the ground, I slowly pull out two roots finding a turning point and a leaf at the end of each one. I must admit that this feeling is by far a hoax- an addicting hoax. The needle that pricks you until it is deep inside of your skin is what it feels like. For some twisted or unknown reason, it just feels so good, but not when remembering the rooted past. A feeling of sickening motions overcasts me. I cannot breathe or speak when I attempt to finally fight my tears back; each thought suddenly heaps. Visualize this: The feeling of your wrists burn as iron blood boils through your veins- And your chest on fire. That is what I felt like the night of October 16th, 2006, but I can only explain so much in words. That flaming desire caused me hatred, and the disastrous memories remained branded in my head. The smoldering venom now saunters in my heart, and hope sears into my spine. I sure as hell hope that feeling does not remain forever. If shame had a beak, it would definitely look like mine. The fire wood is crackling by the oak wood fire as I attempt to fly inside.  It is now story time. 

I would rather set my wings on fire than try to fly a third trip. I am tired, so tired that I feel worn out physically and emotionally. Today I decided to meet with anthemis again to forget the past and the shadow that had trailed behind me since that day. Haides, I could only describe the feeling that I am fighting right now in so many words. My lifelessness is due to this struggle.

Sitting on the old oak tree, I drifted my eyes off to the sky; if only I spoke. I heard a strange, familiar tune. A tune of pain and torture. If only they knew what it would take to pick myself back up and fly. But I am running down into a confined bed. Dirt is my blanket in which I have to cover my secrets in every night as I choke each time I inhale, for two-thousand, one-hundred and ninety days. I just did not know that I would be digging my first hole in the ground, which led to others, like this one.

In my dreams last night a guardian canine was leading me somewhere safe and dark. On the way, I witnessed two stray dogs tearing up a dead man's clothing; it seemed as if a lifeless rag doll was being shredded into pieces. That is how I feel every day I remember the day I was attacked. My personal space was slaughtered and my soul had officially corrupted on that day.

I was still a young cormorant, sixteen years old. Hiding this for years and yet, here I come about testimonies, so I will not hold back. I have been locking something so dark and deep inside, in which I cannot ever let go of. I thought that it would heap over time, and I would let the past be, but no, it will never be. Not even confiding in the ones I have ever liked or loved the most was unbearable. Clearly love has never really been much comforting either.

I was walking and attempting to fly through the daylight sky after carrying worms to the nest beside my single tree in the Lands of Avon with him. His name was Phoenix. He was a black and gray Phoenix. I never did trust him but for some ignorant reason, I was still young, so I stayed attached. I always took everything for granted.

He started humming as he flew away, and for some reason his humming was so rhythmic and soothing; he flew so blissfully that I followed his lead, like I had always been controlled to. I just did not know that I would be digging my first hole in the ground- which led to others.

We flew to his dark, hollow willow tree behind an endless nebulous creek. The song of the deadly lullabies rang through my ears. Trying to avoid it, I turned around and began to walk back home. I had all the most terrible vibes that you could have ever warned me with Haides, but he carried me anyway into the pitch-dark cave. I tried to stay calm because I thought I knew the Phoenix well enough, but still I panicked.

In the darkness, he told me to sit and wait, for he would get a candle to shine the whole room with the smallest light. From my experience reality, I knew that this was impossible. I waited and waited, trying to find a way to leave- or a familiar light to shine, maybe hope for a familiar tune to ring. But it was too late. The song of the evil lullaby was playing in the background again, but this time it was coming closer.

The melody of hatred, heartless evil and torture was now right beside my ears. I did not know what to think or how to react. My heart stopped pumping blood, and I felt like my veins were dried up to the core. My arm was burning and I could not breath.

Thinking the phoenix flew up to release me, he instead flew his way right back down to me. I wanted to scream but nobody would ever hear me. We were in what seemed like the bottomless pit of a dark cove, the darkest neighborhood in the Lands...Elkshound. The tree was filled with so many thorny leaves and I was confined. 

Nobody listened.  All were clueless, and the one being who knew I was hurt did not even care.

The damage was done and I still kept my mouth shut. I tried to fly out, but who am I except for a flightless winged cormorant? I thought maybe he would leave me or get out or understand I did not want anything to do with him anymore. But the selfish tunes of deadly lullabies still rang inside my head. It was so loud I could not take anymore.

I was strong, I could pull through, it was only a few minutes of harm. No harm done, no life long scars. Ignore it. Act like it never happened, right?  Wasn't it supposed to be easy? 

I pushed him away and he flew out, I found no light to shine. I was stranded, alone and scared in the darkest pit of the Lands. However, still I was able to leave the cave, with not a single mark on me- or so I thought. As soon as I struggled and limped back home, I looked a myself in the reflection of my window sill. My neck was bruised my hands were scarred, and a piece of me inside was never to be healed again. Never. The feather on my shameful wings were slowly shedding, and a few poked out from the sides ready to fall. A tear rolled to my scratched beak from attempting to fight the phoenix. I knew that day would not be taken back and it would not be forgotten, for it shall haunt me for as long as I live.

I am no longer alive. 

I looked at my wings and wished I could have flown that day.

The melody of hatred, heartless evil and torture is now ringing beside my ears. I do not know what to think or how to react. My heart felt as if it stopped pumping blood, and my veins have dried to their core. My arm was burning and I could not breath. The Anthemis has worn out, and I need more to keep myself up on my feet. This happens to me every single night before I sleep, especially when I decide to sit and release my thoughts onto this sheet of empty paper. If I cannot explain the things that have been going on to anybody else in this ruthless world, I have you to spill to, dear Haides.

I am so glad I have my group of friends, they make everything better, they make my life a hell lot easier and more enjoyable. Reah always helps me make a joke out of my agony, and so does Harmonia. Menos tries his hardest to lecture me out of the bad side of things into the good, but he always thinks that I am not listening to him, but I really am. I take every word that he says and I lock it inside for life reference. Laden has become a wise man, wiser than when I first met him. His advice is like an advice of a leader and it encourages me to build up strength when I have none. Sapphira is a precious girl and I always thought to be the humming bird above their heads at her and Laden's weddings, singing melodic tunes of happiness and love.

The past few days I have been helping Laden with his work. Harmonia made it clear to Myron that she wants nothing to do with being involved with him, even in the near future. Myron was in pain, and I noticed, which made me hurt deep down. But, it was Harmonia's choice and she chose right, because she did not want to wait until his hope reaches a preposterous peek. She has had enough and does not deserve such a pain, and Harmonia does not need any attention or pressure after her last relationship. After being thrown after five years, she feels like anything standing beside her or in her way can make her feel smothered, and annoyance makes her infuriated.

Myron is now considered my guardian, I never had a friend and a guardian at the same time. It is nice knowing that somebody cares about your mind, opinions, and thoughts, no matter how pointless they may seem to be. He helps me, defends me, again, not only through the substance abuse, but also the past that I have been trying to bury.

I have begun to understand the Harmonia, Menos and Myron are getting annoyed by the fact that I still abuse certain substances. I do not only stick to my sweet anthemis either, I have a problem. I abuse many other alternatives. I hate to see them bothered by my stupidity, lack of control and weakness. I do not want it to affect them. I hope it never does, because I promised them all I would quit, which I have not done yet. But I slowly am getting there, it is not easy and I just needed an extra push. Who can blame me? I still need something to take off the edge from time to time, who doesn't? I just caught myself typing this letter with my eyes closed, but remembering what I have feared is the harm done.

For some reason Ezra still passes by my window sill every night, and that always leads to fights and harsh discussions. It is not my fault per se, but I feel like he has attempted to take full control of me ; however, he is always telling me to do what I want. Is that a trap? I almost pushed him away, yet it tore him to pieces. Then when he spoke to me about it, he approached in a rough way. It was so rough, but he does it to make me realize how he feels. The difference is, I don't feel. I don't feel at all. I don't even want to know what anything feels like anymore. I had enough of trying to regain “feelings” and “emotions” for years. I still have not felt ever since I got that one sharp pain inside my left wing; when it was stolen, broken and raked. I cannot escape, I want to so bad, but it is hard to release my weak feet from this ball and chain.

Myron passed by my window sill again, but this time he stayed. He stayed with me until I released the truth that I had been hiding for years. I refuse to share it with the world, however, it feels good that somebody else knows now. I just do not want to disinter such a trauma, I hated thinking of it already. Sure it feels good to release it, but it hurts to be reminded of the dismay.

I bless thee anthemis to get me away from it. I bless thee chemical natures because of it. I bless myself for drifting away from it. I bless thee writing for it. I bless Myron for protecting me from it. I bless Menos for guiding me from it. I bless Harmonia from warning me of it. I bless Laden for lecturing me from away it all. I bless Reah for advising me after. And, I bless Saphirra for cheering me up from it. I bless you Haides for the greatest step is to confess, admit, and to release what is behind this dirty cage. Sometime I wonder if I would remain trapped in one, for darkness is so comforting and so addicting, but will it take over me? Is darkness really some supernatural evidence that is that powerfully forbidding yet pleasurable?

Myron had ended his chain of writing for the time being, which worried me. I always trusted and loved his writing. For some reason I do not believe that he will actually stop. Maybe that is an example of what we call a “writer's block”, maybe it actually does exist to humans.

  I fear to keep writing you Haides, because I do not want to end up letting out all the darkness I have within to be left with emotional loss; and nothing left to write. 

Happiness. Who would want to free all their happiness too? My greatest fear is that I will run out of ideas, points, thoughts, and days to write about- the clock is ticking and I am not getting any younger, nor are these pages.

The day that trust, hope and waiting for somebody to help me died, so did my belief in anything I see at all. We are not divine beings or master architects. Surely no human can be responsible for so much pain. So much f*****g misery. We are dead. Or maybe we were never really alive.

Returning to where I was brings back so many memories. Things I never really wanted to revisit. The world that abandoned me. From the world who turned its back on me six years ago, the scar is still there. All my memories are cutting me away from the bounds of love and trust. I can only imagine how different my life would have been if I ripped some days away off of my calender carved across the old oak tree. I would have been somebody else. Somebody better. Somebody more confident, beautiful, and maybe proud. But here I am, carrying big locks of feathers hanging below my flightless wings, always covered in black. Hope has led me to seeing a different day, a day that I would change- perhaps even fly.

In one of my dreams, a wise man had once told me, 'We all have made our sacrifices, maybe not all of us, yet some have been stolen, but time will come. The time when you have to give up something you yearn for, in exchange for something you despise will come around; yet, you will still have to gain anything in order to survive. 

The moon tide controls the wind of changes; therefore, the seasons are the moon tide being controlled by the weather. It does not make sense at all, does it? Good. It should not. Here I go again attempting to fly, learning to sing, and turning the page.

I rested my head onto the comforting, sharp barks of the old oak tree and listened to the silent night. Over the stone-like wall, I stared down to the empty burial site wondering when it will be my turn to occupy a place in the heart of a tomb. A bold, fearless crow landed in the middle of the field as several small birds flew away.

Peace, Love, Empathy, and Shame,

Anonymous 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the description of the character in the story. I like the names you have given. Each having a purpose and need in the tale. I like the way you make the reader feel. Like hearing a story from a open book that can speak. I like how you closed the chapter. I may borrow those words.
"Peace, Love, Empathy, and Shame,"
Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote