Skip to main content

AURORA, DEATH AND BEAUTY


The gentle and rhythmic hum of the train soothed Aurora into a dull lull. As she peered through the carriage window, with one eye open- a picturesque field of grass spanning as far as the eye can see steadily came into view. What a beautiful and vast kind of nothingness she thought to herself. While others would have seen this and raveled in the beauty of nature and life. She instead saw the endlessness that is an affliction on all living things. We live, we die so others can live and die. The pointlessness of it all. Caught off-guard by the often absentminded straying of her thoughts, she shook her head violently to her left as if to wake herself from that dark place she knew all too well. Looking down at hands that were cradling shaky knees, she pulled up the right sleeve of a worn-out winter sweater. The grey stitches were starting to venture out and free loose thread that swayed along to the beat of the train. Aurora took one long breath in, closed her eyes altogether and mastered the courage to open them again. She had to face her scars, she had to face what she had done. Staring angrily at her were elongated cuts that had traveled down her right arm, bright red, open and still bleeding. She fought a small smile, perverted is what most would call her. But try as she might, seeing the blood ooze out of her slowly and with such unapologetic purpose always gave her a small thrill. To see the essence of her being sip from her by her own doing truly was quite a sight. She had figured, ever since the moment she was born, living had never been a choice. At first she breathed in life because she didn’t know any better, then she did it because everyone else seemed to be choosing to carry on with little to no concern for the all the true unknowns that lied not ahead but were boldly occurring in the present. Some part of her had also given herself to the concept of death, it is inevitable, it is undeniable and for us all- it will one day come. No, death was never a cause for fear, anxiety or depression. It was the only security, and the only sure thing she had ever known. See, for her death was never the question, death was the only answer. Be it the meaning of life or the reason we exist. Death had always been the one truth that could not be contested or argued. Aurora followed the silent drip of essence flowering the carriage floor. She had decided a long time ago that the only thing she would dare to own and direct is the time in which her death would arrive. She would finally have a voice, she would no longer watch helplessly as a bystander to the living. An outsider with no notable grasp on the mechanics of existing. No, she alone would be the judge and jury. What a beautiful ode to empowerment and agency, what an exquisite exit. What other real fulfillment than to dream a dream, then be the one to seek it out and fulfill it? The smile faded into her face, she could no longer bring herself to cry. For self-pity was a bed made by entitlement and need. A most basic embodiment of greed, and she had filled her cup to the brim with that awful flow of selfishness and first deaths. The puddle of deep red  was mesmerizing, Aurora’s head felt lighter, breaking free from the heaviness she finally took in everything placed ever so deliberately on the train, empty chairs, closed doors, windows and even the train grab handles on which passengers were meant to use to help find better footing. She laughed out loud at the thought, then quickly cupped her mouth in a sheepish gesture of shyness. Light streaming in and inviting the day.
“Aurora!”- A most familiar voice boomed throughout the train, threatening to snap the wheels from the tracks. The vibration lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Aurora waited knowingly for it to fade off from the end of the train and somewhere into the wind. The corners of her mouth still slightly raised, she knew exactly what needed to happen. And when she spoke, her voice was like aloe Vera to the patient burn and deceit of the sun.
“Shhh, no need to fuss…” Her eyes moistened, she blew out a sad sigh that spoke of universes discovered but never inhabited. Dissolute planets, and forgotten evolutions that could or could not have made some kind of change. Only if someone had cared. Anyway, she knew she could not afford to go back there.
After a moment, Aurora continued, “The train of death has no more than one passenger, you know that. Yet for you are my burden to carry, I walk with you always. You are in my likeness like a shadow, and I will honor my duty. Now be still and come sit next to me… ” Aurora patted the cushion seat beside her and sweetly lifted her finger to the window.
“There, look outside the window. See how green the grass is? It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
Always powerless against her charm, always slave to her every whim, Depression smiled in agreement looking only at Aurora’s silhouette.


Comments

  1. My dear. Immensely talented. Above average RSA standard. Symbolism, imagery, metaphors, vocab, depth, I'm left speechless! Where from do you fetch these words? This is a library in one head....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am so grateful for your place in my life! You make all this stuff worth it...And with feedback like this, why would I ever stop??! Lol, and the library is a wealth of human experiences that I have been blessed with. Thanks to friends, lovers and family. It's all YOU guys....

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Still too young

Infinite curiosity and wonder Holding up a woolen crown Weaved with a thread of certainty Kissing both the heavens and the earth Nestling the subtle nectar of unconditional love Tentatively peering past the constraints re-imagined by men The dirt and the musk veiled by bright lights Passively they walk past monuments and metaphors Little to no regard for the rotten underbelly The stench of hopes lost, dreams discarded -           And complacency accepted as a norm Ill fitted realities we slide into Like slick robes we put them on Forsaking a most sacred calling While we abide a most trivial and misguided mental oppression Somehow convinced that this is the best we can offer Prison or a coffin… Dying before we are dead- a routine we practice too often The shoes we cannot fill are too grand A history we cannot placate Because what we are is the change they died for Unsatisfied, but we remain asking for more Complete and unburdened

Blood Stains On The Pavement

Blood stains on the pavement The footprints of an extinguishing life force Squalor, death and rust They care not for us Gunshots, disembodied screams And the ever-present swan song of police sirens Little kids play on concrete streets No place to house innocence when home possesses no safety, Nor does it offer security In the men we can never trust, devoid of wisdom and humility     Masculinity as fragile as a wine glass We once wore deviance as the voice of the silenced Now we neatly tuck it away together with all the agency of our womanhood We weave street lights like moths to flame My brothers forget us My sisters allow it And the children cannot help but witness it They placate our existence with the amnesia we find at the bottom of a bottle They wait like vultures They poison us with unsolicited prescriptions, When only they carry the sickness Young boys raise hands and fists For a cause rooted only in violence We