The
Tricky Devil…
Story:
How he does it escapes me! It
is no matter where I lay my head, nor does it matter I’m hundreds of steps in
the dust I away. The constant
hiding, my trails a branch, replete with obstacles to obscure my leaving, yet he
comes always to confirm my doubts when I wake.
I fumble in darkness, crawling on my knees, nostrils searching for
scents. The cool dust of the night
stings my cuts one more time; I’ve risked absurdity and pain to trick my
friend just one time. Sand
stings as it wicks the moisture from my eyes as I grope in the black
nothingness, searching for a place to hide from his arrival.
He cannot see me in the dark, can he?
After great effort, my friend finds me without fail.
There is no freedom from his gaze, the tricky Devil.
One day, he will tire, I’m sure of it.
One day this beaten prey will be gone.
Perhaps I should thank him for this task?
After all what have I to do but be his puppet, his ‘hide-n-seek
thing’? Alas, this is but one of
many reasons for my stinking breath and rotting teeth.
Can the answer be so simple? Is
it the stench of my life which draws him close, like wolves in a pack?
I can only guess his secret, for I know not these features.
Even though they are mine, he knows them far better that I. I
have never seen my guilt or my lies. I
have never witnessed my embarrassment or shame.
I have never pitied the loneliness on my face.
This voyeur has seen all these and more.
My life is comprised of acts in his fifty cent play.
I wonder, am I only entertainment? My
grin says it all; I have what he yearns for, feeling.
I alone have felt all these things foreign to my gaze, he has seen these
things, yet he will never cry. I
have experienced them in my heart, I know they exist.
I know the pain of lies, deceit and malice. To know them as company is to
be in constant pain. I know the downward stare of shame, and the sudden rush of
blood and faintness of embarrassment! I
know these all too well, for they are but stones in a beggar’s shoe.
They are his and his alone; and as such, you will never know the truth
until the coroner washes him. Stones
are painful, yet they would be missed if gone.
It would take years to learn to walk again should the stones fall out the soul.
A perfect world is boring without pebbles in your shoes.
Hah, where are you?
For lack of a better word, I will call my friend ‘sun’. RJ