Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Wreckless Wild

I grabbed the cup and tipped it over in my mouth. Hoping for a last droplet of water at the bottom. As if the mere molecules would restore me. 
I watched that town disappear yesterday and I'd give anything to have the power to have stopped it from sinking. 
I sat at the edge of the cliff with the dirt crumbling under me, with a swirl of tears and dirt on my face, with a twisted look of pain on my face, watching that town sink. In other parts of the world they just call it "another town" gone. But each one I watch, hurts more than the last. It's not just people who are lost, but memories, communities, smiles and trials that have been dug deep into the crust of the Earth. You can never get those back. You can't pack them away and hide them from a dying Earth. 
No one knows but me which place will sink next. It's a gift of a curse to know the end. And I tell no one (not even myself). I bury the prompting deep into the chambers of my heart only for them to be pumped out, for the blood to rush into my head and scream to me the location until I accept it. 
I can't tell anyone. I can't save them. Before it happens I grow mute and weak, like the energy of the Earth and I are connected. When it starts to drain, I drain and I can only watch with tears. 

We are at the beginning of the Wreckless Wild and I am scared to know what becomes of us, what becomes of this world. When the Earth is watered with the planted dead, what will sprout from the ground? I know the Earth will mourn, will growl at the stench of death at its core. Who will tame the Earth? Who will tame us who grow delirious with worry, who fear our inevitable ends? 

What will happen when I have the prompting and I have nowhere to go but in the angry bowels of the Belly? 


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