Kneeling in the dark, enveloped in nothing but method and guise, soup boils in the kitchen.
Marauding ideas spill over onto the next page and thereafter, seeking reprieve from the mind that would condemn them to the uncertain future of memory, recording dates, moments, emotions. I become my own personal archivist. Yet, I close this book and give not thought thereafter to when I will turn back the pages to have a look into the places in time that I have places landmarks, monuments such that all that has not been fossilized out of mind dwarfs in contrast. Don’t you think that that moment you struck a conversation with your tailor deserves such treatment. Don’t you think that the laughter you managed today has to be marked down in blue ink. They say blue ink makes you remember more of what you wrote down. Don’t you think that you ought to be fossilized now, and brought in to another alternate reality.
But I kneel in the dark. Kneel next to the bed and remember.
Running as my feet sink onto the soles of my shoes and take the sting of the earth. Atonement. Where does my heart find it?
Not It. Him?
The moon casts its shadow above the earth, magnified by its distance from the sun. In the same vain hope, I shun and cover the scars of dark times. Is it enough to condemn such to the vestiges of once upon a time? Selective memory is less a function of the conscience than it is a symptom of trauma. But trauma cannot be healed if it doesn’t exist.
Lifting one leg atop the other as the will then has to maneuver the landmines of the mind – lest you misstep and let loose the sense that you lost in time. No wonder the only way to go is not to think too much about certain events. Come as they go. The well of knowledge through self-criticism is scarier than anything external. No one else can give you some reprieve because they cannot see it as you do.
To the victim, it is not the villain who can take the first step towards total reconciliation. To the villain, the victim offers little clemency for his actions. Ask Judas where it is that he sought a grace that he couldn’t find.