I knelt beside the closed door, my brow moist,
eyes glazed and one ear pressed so firmly against the oaken surface that I might have injured myself but for
no small amount of restraint. I heard soft, low voices and he was explaining, it was all a prelude at this point and though I knew that it would progress to that which I needed to hear,
his voice was so terribly drawing. Intoxicating, meticulously defined intonation suggested every word to be precious, valuable, almost sacred.. no,
it was sacred simply because it traversed from his thoughts to those lips that had tasted blood, and
wind blown sand. Pain and agony mixed with the elation of living in freedom, I had seen it in his eyes when.. well, he'd saved me, at least once, and his existence meant
I could tumble through life amidst all of this.
I'd been the little girl that sat before him in the small room with a warm,
bare-stone floor. I'd heard these words in their entirety, altered not in the slightest, and I needed to now, again, I needed to take in the richness of his voice and the potent way
words seemed to fall almost wistfully from his mouth.
And now, as I leaned away from the door for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt, or several hundred and all at once.. I stood up and wandered down the darkened hallway a few steps. I knew
the words weren't for me, not this time, and I couldn't bring myself to intrude on his presence here. I kept walking, just then, letting the bits of his words, thought, voice that remained inside of me bounce against, around in my head. I remembered then, what he'd called the lesson, the teachings that day..
"you will now close your eyes, and tears will flow
freely, relentlessly.. you have learned what
is considered to be the most valuable lesson I
will ever pass onto you, implant in your fragile thoughts.
the speak of cry, my child, it is now yours to hold above all else."
I hadn't known, then, exactly what he meant.. I was young, and I could only comprehend that
it was essential I not forget, and so I had not, in all these years. As I walked away from the room and saw the dimly lit entrance way, dancing
flame shadows across walls, it became so clear in that instant that I fell to my knees and placed my head in my hands in an attempt to take so much in so quickly. I couldn't of course, and the eye waters gathered on rocks and clothing. He had given it to me.. the ability to conjure such intense emotion with mere words, that anyone who might be listening would weep
the truest of tears only for me. He had referred to it as that which could only make sense now in this instant..
the speak of cry, and it was to him so easily called upon, so natural, he'd mastered such stuff before my eyes, my first thoughts had even formed.
I picked myself up from the cold, all
confusion left in the small clear stain upon the floor. I opened the door, closed my eyes and saw things as I'd never before.. and then
a little spoon fell on my head. I winced and looked up to see him, leaning out the window and smiling at me.. I laughed and ran off quickly as the sun was appearing and my eyes felt, strangely, too weak and tired to handle its light just then.