Into the Dream Again

It was the only relief she could find. To
enter yet again into another person's mind,
and watch the world go by through yet
another pair of eyes. Troubled by this
thought, she closed her own; yet still
those eerie feelings came to pass;
within a night that lasted all too long,
and brought to many images to mind.

That one feeling that she never
dared to put in words was rearing
heatedly into her mind again. She
told herself it didn't, couldn't matter,
not to her. All the many times that
she had felt this way before had come
to pass. To put it into words would
make it rear its head again.

She longed again for childhood days,
before the curse began. Then suddenly,
she realized this curse had been there
too. Haunting every atmosphere she
breathed. It mattered not, the many
years she'd spent in search of just
one difference, to finally put this
haunting specter in its grave for
once and all.

It ran within her family, this suicidal
tendency. She'd faced it all too many
times before and won the day. She
couldn't help but notice all the others
that still battled this same pain. Her
father, bless his soul, had finally wished
himself to death. But oh, the slow, sad
suffering that he endured through all
the many years of its denial.

Death, that final goal humanity had set
in place and then pretended to ignore.
She wondered now, if any of the many
times she'd helped another find their
way through this, had ever really helped
at all. Might it perhaps have been much
kinder to just to tell them it must be? For
years she'd searched for the right words,
to make them understand the truth
she'd found. It mattered not, the death
of flesh, for spirit still lived on.

Yet seldom did she speak of this these
days. She couldn't bear the fear that
flared in them whenever that one word
came into play within a conversation.
And oh, the pain created by each term
for terminal, the doctors coined. As if
a different word could ever really mean
abeyance of that greatest fear of all.

"Glory to God in the highest..." She
heard the angels singing out again
in joy. In excelsis dei - anciently, the
imprint still implied a sense of immortality,
most especially when those choirs of eternal
angels harmonized the perfect tone and
spoke the words so true. Their voices lifted
higher, drifted deeper - every year when
Christmas time rolled round again.

Anciently, the meaning yet again
expanded; essentially unchanged,
as she remembered yet again those
moments played in childhood days,
where she felt joy within the presence
of a power mightier than any man could
hope to wield. Absently, she wondered
once again, just why a deity of life allowed
the gist of its creation so much suffering.

She took another pill, with a wine chaser.
The doctors had insisted that she must.
Oh, for the days of trust in all they seemed
to know of life's particulars. Was it that
she'd learned too much of what they truly
didn't know? Especially now that all the
eternity of passing moments in her life
brought all the sensitivity of empathy
more directly into every cell of flesh that
she could ever claim to be.

No matter all the learning and degrees,
none of them could ever answer that
one little question satisfactorily; it seemed
the why of life and consciousness of all
those deep emotions, would ever lie beyond
the greatest scholar's understanding. And the
healing profession had grown cold within
the greedy need of answers even they could
not conceive. More and more, she found
they really didn't know at all. And even at
their best, guesses rarely healed a single soul.

Where then, the rush of that pure, childlike
delight she'd always felt in all the blinking
Christmas lights? Why was it that they
all believed that light must be the source
and course of every living destiny? When
it was so obvious, that dark of night and
dreams of sleep were all that really
brought the balance of all healing to light.
Magically, her sight expanded (one more
time again). As if the stars and galaxies
were offering another bit of grand advice.

Relief began resurfacing in her. Lost
sister of million moons ago, she sought
her place among the millions once again.
Remembering the source of memory,
she drifted easily into the dream again...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...