Glass & Gale, pt II

The cub sat silently, watching the strange thing in the field. 

It had been there for two days, not moving. The cub watched, sniffing the air for the scent of danger, as his sire had taught. Two days and no movement, yet the cub waited. 

A soft breeze ran through the field and the tall grass bent down around the strange form. The cub saw a small movement then, a limb raised slightly, then dropped. 

Creeping forward, the cub approached the strange thing, ready to run away at the first sign of danger. Drawing near, the cub saw clearly the strange thing, an animal with no fur. A green light flickered in the animal’s torso, and a dark liquid dripped from its mouth. 

The cub, about three paces from the creature, tensed as its eyes opened and fixed upon his own. Soft words escaped the bleeding mouth as its hand stretched toward the cub. 

“Come, little one.” 

An unfamiliar feeling gripped the cub’s mind, a pull toward the strange thing. His paws moved of their own volition as the outstretched hand beckoned. As his nose came close, the thing’s hand reached toward the flickering green light in its chest. Clenching around the light, the hand pulled what seemed to the cub to be a large leaf from its chest, then extended it to the cub. 

“Eat, little one,” the thing said. “You are Curiosity.”

Compelled beyond resistance, the cub leaned forward and bit into the glowing leaf. As his teeth closed on the light, it pulsed violently, and became mist. The cub inhaled sharply and the mist disappeared into his throat. 

Warmth spread through the cub’s body as he stood motionless. His skin tingled under his fur as the warmth spread to his extremities. 

A movement caught his attention and his eyes focused on the strange thing. It was changing, its flesh becoming wood-like and stiff. Its arms and legs became branches and within a few seconds, a fallen tree lay where the animal had been. 

The cub turned and ran away from the field, suddenly afraid of what had occurred. Darting through the forest toward home, he leapt over a small pond, then stopped in his tracks. 

Turning back to the water, he saw the sky reflected in the water, and something unusual. A small wolf peered out of the still water at him, blue eyes shining. The cub reached toward the wolf in the water, then recoiled as the other reached toward him at the same time. 

Jumping toward the other wolf, the cub opened his jaws to bite. Suddenly wet, the other wolf was gone, and the cub had a mouthful of stale water. The surface of the pond rippled as the cub pondered this event. 

“It’s me,” the cub thought. “It was me in the water. The sky and me in the water, and not in the water.”

A sharp yelp from behind the cub startled him, and he turned quickly. 

“What do you do, here?” The great black wolf growled at the cub. “Come, now.”

A small bark of compliance came from the cub as he started walking behind his sire. He thought to tell what he had experienced in the field, but something held his words close. Walking through the woods to home, the cub started laughing in his mind. 

“It was me, in the water. I wonder what else is in there?” 

Glass & Gale, pt I

The Crafter placed the last mark on the statue with his blade, and stepped back with a sigh. Looking at the row of wooden mannequins he had built, a sense of relief washed over his mind. He had finished the Green Lady’s task, with a few hours to spare. The moon was full, and would reach it’s zenith soon.
Rushing to the large cabin at the end of the sand, the Crafter took off his hat as he approached her, sitting and staring at the water.
“My Lady, the work is done. I’ve finished.” His deep voice startled the Green Lady from her contemplation, and she looked at him with a smile.
She stood, thirty feet tall, her body appearing to be made of trees and flowers. Towering over the Crafter, she shook her head slightly.
“The work has just begun.”
She walked over to the row of fifty carved figures, as her arboreal arms reached for her sides. Reaching the first, the Green Lady tore a glowing mass of living wood from her body, and began to sing. A soft, wordless melody seemed to swirl around her hands as they placed the living wood against the chest of the first statue. Light escaped from the statue’s eyes as the piece of the Green Lady melted into its heart.
Now a living man, the carved figure smiled. The Green Lady looked into his eyes and said, “You are Hope.”
The glowing man nodded, and immediately turned and ran away from the beach, heading for the forest beyond the sand dunes.
She walked down the row, tearing pieces of her body away and placing them in the statues as she sang. With each new life created, she whispered identifying words to the creatures.
“You are Strength.”
“You are Love.”
“You are Laughter,
Music,
Curiosity,
Innovation,
Observation,
Magic, Time, Wonder, Loyalty, Truth.”

With each piece taken from her body she became smaller, until she empowered the last statue with a cringe, saying, “You are Sadness.”
Now only five feet, seven inches tall, her body slim and lithe, her long green hair danced on the ocean breeze. She turned to the Crafter, and said weakly,
“Take me back to the cabin, please, dear.”
The Crafter wrapped her arm around his broad shoulders and walked her slowly back to her home.
“Well, that’s done now, My Lady.”
She smiled at him again as he helped her down to the earth in front of her cabin.
Shaking her head once more, she looked at him and whispered, “One more.”
Reaching her thin hands toward her chest, she began to sing. She pulled a throbbing light from herself, and placed it against the Crafter’s chest. As it melted into his body, her feet dug into the earth, her body grew rigid as the Green Lady became a lovely willow tree, standing alone against a rocky outcrop, alone by the ocean. Her face disappeared as she whispered to the Crafter,
“You are Poetry.”

What I Really Meant To Say

I meant to say, I love you, Mom. I was eleven and lying on the living room floor, and she was falling apart. Crying about life, about the difficulty dealing with my youngest brother. She poured out her heart, and then she had to go. 

“I love you,” she sobbed. 

“Bye.” The cold cruelty in my voice startled my brother and I felt something die, inside. 

I meant to say, I need to be your friend. I had been strung out on meth for weeks, maybe months… It gets fuzzy. Fifteen years old and trying to destroy the thing called me. I was desperately in love with her, Twenty-three and so much that I understood. Smart, funny, damaged. She told me that I was too young, of course I was. I told her that I couldn’t hang out with her anymore, because I couldn’t get over wanting her. 

I meant to say, please don’t let me screw this up. Twenty-three and so easily destroying the only real love I had ever found, she needed me and I needed her. We fell in love together, holding hands and reading philosophy and poetry by the ocean. Making love every night and fucking every day. Innocently, desperately, with joy and enthusiasm, we loved our love. We licked it. We breathed it into each other, 

and there I was on the phone, saying, 

don’t come back. Inside my head I was weeping, begging the words to change, please don’t let me do this. I need to be in this love. I can’t let this happen. 

But I did. 

I meant to say, so many things. Death after death after death and I kept thinking of the perfect things to say, too late. Funerals and memorials and another and another and when, when, can I say the fucking words that I need to say, in the moment? 

I need you, I love you, I  sorry. You were so much to me, you were my favorite. I need you. I need you. I need you. I’m sorry. 
Please don’t die. 

Buckle up. 

Look both ways.

 Take care of your health. 

Go see a doctor. 

Stop doing drugs. 

I need you. 

I meant to say,  I waited my whole life for you and I screwed it up the first time but I will not, this time, thank you for loving me, today we are man and wife, woman and husband (why don’t they ever say it that way?) Today we are choosing to say, 

This is us. 

I meant to say,  

I’m not anything special, just another survivor of childhood trauma and abuse. Just another recovered drug addict. Just another tormented writer, just another contradiction. Just another overactive mind. Just another insecure, needy, desperate fool trapped in a moderately attractive and confident man. Just another magician, using sleight-of-hand to show smiles and talent while hiding broken edges and shattered dreams. Just another depressed person, struggling with PTSD and suicidal urges. Just another day in the life of the impossible. 

I meant to say, this. 

From Sea to Shining Hipocrisy


A long time ago, 
In a galaxy far, far away… 
The time has passed with no sign of progress, our beloved nation of freedom and principles has become a literal charnel house of horrors.  
The United States of America was, honestly, founded on hypocrisy. Slave owners that did not recognize the humanity of women or any ethnic group not descended from European stock spoke of the equality of all men, with back door deals and secret handshakes. 
To be free of British taxation and rule the colonial Americans fought, and mythology was born in the form of historical fairytales. George Washington never chopped down that cherry tree and confessed his sin. Thomas Jefferson is commonly represented as a pillar of Liberty, yet the man owned and used his slaves, people of color who did not own the bodies they lived in, Andrew Jackson enacted the genocide of almost all native people who had lived mostly peacefully for a few thousand years, from sea to shining sea. 
Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves, but only in half-measures. The newly freed slaves were legally counted as three-fifths of a person. I’m not sure what sixty percent of a person looks like, but I’m reasonably sure that it isn’t a human with equal rights. 
A hundred years after the Civil War, equality was still a lie told to the populace of this country. It took impossible efforts and lost lives to push the Civil Rights Act of 1964 through legislative process, to force the bigots and racists working for local and state governments to allow some small measure of legal equality to people not called “white”. 
Fifty years have passed since that legislation was ratified and still racism runs rampant, not just in small towns and the ‘Deep South’ but throughout this entire nation.  
The back door deals have never been dissolved. Families like the Rothschilds and Rockefellers still own everything, including the governing bodies and courts. Elections are held as a pretense to appease the ignorant masses. No real change has been made. Oligarchy has moved out of the shadows into common knowledge and the idea of freedom has been willingly sacrificed for convenience and supposed safety.
You may read this and call me a conspiracy theorist, or an idiot, or any number of slurs and insults.  
You may read this and agree with all that I say, but shrug and say, 
“What can one person do?” 
One person, that’s all I am. I have studied and I have researched and I guarantee you I do not have all of the truth, all of the story, and I certainly do not have all of the answers. 
What I have is hope.  
I hope that you can see that skin color, sexual preference and religious affiliation do not determine the worth of a person. 
I hope that you can see past your programmed prejudices, your traditional values, your ingrained impulses to behold the humanity in every person, and recognize that no group of people is defined by any one characteristic. We are all individuals, we are all unique and we all have the ability to adapt to new conditions. It is that adaptability which propelled humanity above and outside the natural order, it placed us outside the food chain, it established us as the ultimate animal. 
It is adaptability we need, more than ever before. We must see that our path is headed toward the Hell spoken of so glibly by bible-pushers. This planet has the resources to support all of us, yet we are allowing a tiny percentage of us to rule everything, to own everything, to discard humans in a never-ending game of Risk, or Monopoly. 
When will we realize that we are many, we are strong, and our only hope is to join together?
I am not the first to say this, and I hope I will not be the last. 
We must reconfigure our paradigm, we must embrace each other and stop our Hellbound march. The only chance we have is to adapt to our new conditions, namely, the eternally connected world which offers the entirety of human knowledge at the touch of a button. 
We must stand, together, now.  
We have the ability, we have the opportunity, we have the desire for a better world.  
There is a change coming,  
(like always) 
There is a new reality approaching.  
The only question is, 
Will we adapt?  
Will you?  
I hope so.  

………………….