Prose; brought to my knees

Rumi Water

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.”Abraham Lincoln

Sometimes memories go deeply away into the unconscious like a rabid dragon.

But sometimes they rear their grotesque head and fill my colorless brain in the morning.

My 16-year-old son, coming in our front door and dropping to his knees, weeping, after seeing his Dad for one of the last times before he died broke my heart. They had a little sacramental exchange showing they were bonded forever head to heart.

It’s four years extinct but there is a harrowing rock between my throat and my heart that wells up bereaved tears into my eyes and makes my mangled heart break, wondering where all the music in the house went? His dad was a musician. And what of my son’s future without his father? Can I still make music in this house? To a great extent, it has stopped.

Three months later my fiance died, dropped to the floor at the hospital from the flu and never came back awake. I felt like I was going to die standing there in the E.R. I felt my fledgling spirit try to leave my body. Some friendly spectral phantasm kept me there and I just went into numbing shock while a hospital helper offered me an innocuous sandwich. I thought I was going to throw up my soul. How could she offer me a sandwich? It was very odd to me.

Why am I even still here?

Death is always around me but I am full of Life naturally. What vortex do I live in that protects me in this fragile dimension? My own.

A prophetic, intuitive dimension that is called names, not even knowing what my life has been that takes great joy in serving my fellows and honing my vital body. Still, that doesn’t stop the sudden onslaught of being brought to my knees with grief and awe at what I’ve been through but still alive.

Well, part of me is not. Part of me died with them.

The death of someone you love is not something you get over it’s something you live with and becomes part of your saliferous, saline breath. Life is not a happy merry-go-round for most of us and there’s no point in pretending. Unless you’d rather not be called names by superficial people. There’s always that.

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