Black Stain, When Silent Sin Comes to Light

Innocent song birds;
Hopping freely on branches;
Living on mercy.

What was it Jesus said? Be like the birds, don't worry and trust the natural order of things. I don't doubt the wisdom of that, in fact it's a cornerstone belief in my life. But times come when I have trouble letting go and I want to cling to something in the world, fear and frustration getting the best of me. And for a time, one can be seduced by worldly success, thinking: "What do I care of the birds? So what if I lie? Do you see me die?"

_____________________________________________________

It was song birds she heard under the gentle warm rays of the Spring sun. And as she watched the coffin lower into the ground on what would otherwise be a joyous, lively day, she knew she had to blame someone other than herself. So she blamed me. Her son of seventeen earthly years spoke no more, sealed for eternity in deafening silence. As scoops of dirt landed with thunderous impact, the sound rifled through her being, burning agonizing holes of despair.

She too was buried that day - buried alive.

Presented with the Danger Of Life, she'd built glorious inner dams holding back despair, stemming the floodwaters of life. And though she ached in the slave labor torment of building those dams ever higher - her soul aching to destroy it as she truly wanted - the strings of power proved too alluring; for they were too logical, too concrete, too seemingly smartly safe to refuse. She'd make her life as she saw fit, her soul be damned - and so it was.

I was an inconvenient truth, an environmental disaster in what she called her garden of Eden. But it was the snake who'd first led her astray, whispering her out of paradise and selling her a hellish mockery of life. A sly salesman the snake, praising and lauding her decision, feeding her the lies she needed to hear. "In the old garden, you had no say in the forces of nature! What is life if one is to live at its mercy, I ask you. Which way next the wind, what possessions to be lost? The river floods, sweeping away even the good homes if not resting on rock. In my garden, you can set the river's path as you please."

But proud she was of her Dance of Life and she feared its departure. A starlet of love, the sunshine of her soul a beacon in a dark world, she walked in ethereal dreams. She had plans for the bright burning of her star - but a Weak Male had plans for her. Like a deer in the woods, her instincts alarmed danger at his arrival. He cared not she said no - only that he spoke to him. Finally, he convinced her the danger she felt was the Danger Of Life. Did she really think her star would burn ever bright? He asked her if she wanted dreams that could be safely bought, and she said, "I do."


"A nice day to start again"
And the snake hissed in discomforted joy, knowing he had not spoken in vain.

Over the years, in the tall tale of her life, she made myth on how True Love had overcome her wrongheaded instincts - then held up her shackled wrists and gave smile as proof. "Make me your slave," she cooed in the night. "I have nothing else to offer." In the garden of the snake, they sowed trees of rot and hoed gardens of twisted root - and marveled at the comfort ill-gotten growth did bring. And yet she did question her Weak Man about the grains of sand on which their fine home rested.

With eyes afire, her leader-bleeder explained: "These are grains of greed - the grains that save us! As long as we're greedy, out house will never fall. You know how to be greedy, don't you?"

All her life she'd been a prisoner of selfishness - she hated how it contorted her beautiful Dance Of Life. As a child, she despised losers who lost the Dance Of Life, the walking dead bemoaning their fate and dire in demeanor. For she knew what life is to be: it is to be love. Love that reaches out through all living things, the universe in every cell and the universe an infinite, infallible dream. But love means surrender, and she could not surrender to the idea that merely the Dance Of Life would keep her alive like song birds in the trees.

Lacking true holiness, she made rituals of her religion, praising herself as God, parroting God's words and pleading to herself to keep her life, the words of the snake echoing in her ears: "The river washes away houses built on sand." Words that froze her heart and stilled her dance. But seeing her dance die was unbearable as well. Torn between the two, she dug through the grains of sands, suspecting her faith misplaced. That's when she found me.

***
The snake led me astray as well, leaving me in the cruel, arid sands of the desert, living at the mercy of snarling teeth that hunt in the night. In the desert dunes, every footstep must be heeded, the ground laced with bubbling pits of anger and holes without end. Drinking from bitter waters, I was convinced this is all life can be. I cursed me and the lies I followed - was my love forever a Dream Unspoken? I asked God to send me a soul to lead me out of the wilderness. Give love a chance. That's when the Oasis appeared and I found Her dreaming by waters pure and sweet.

Life cannot be made in an oasis, they come and go in the desert day, popping up as nature allows. But any respite is welcome from the scorching, parched heat of a lonely sun. Tepidly I approached Her, an involuntary smile on my lips. She returned mine with one of her own. We didn't have to do anything, a miracle happened as a golden flower sprouted of its own accord. Never had I known anything so beautiful. Healing tears dripped from our faces, nurturing the flower, each petal made of countless crystals of light. The tender waters of the oasis nurtured us as well, two heaving chests hungry once more for life, a little boy meets a little girl.

At night, back in the hellish shrub of the desert, I must have made quite a silly sight for any angels who watched. Among the dangerous pitfalls and odorous waters, I danced like never before, singing "Yes! Yes! I found you at last! My dreams are real!" I dreamed of a normal life, at long last returning to the world of the living. I looked at my hands but they were not my hands, but the hands of God, glowing in the dark air, flowing with the power of the universe. God help the snake who broached me now.


"Even if it takes a lifetime"
A changed man was I. God did love Me, My dreams were not delusions, but merely a reality waiting to happen. I didn't know! I just didn't know! I wanted to share this dream, to wrap the world in a love and light it could not resist. I fell down on My knees in thankfulness and happy angels appeared, flying Me to worlds I had never seen before. But I hadn't earned My wings yet.

Looking at the harsh terrain I inhabited, I knew I could never bring Her here to live. I must find greener pastures in which We could lay. Sensing My moment of doubt, the snake returned to remind Me of Her fine house and that all was lost. "Taste the bitter water of your choices," it hissed, "and know you poisoned your own dreams. Life is not for you." I cried to the Heavens to take My life. I was the Biggest Fool Alive.

That's when She told me my feeling were sin in Her eyes. That feelings outside of Her house would bring Her house down. Yes, She said the flower was good, but that it must grow in Her garden and not in the Oasis. "I love the feeling but it is not ours to have. I must build on what I own." And I, with no place to take Her, was helpless as she returned to her house of sand - only now not caring if her Dance of Life died.

No more did the Oasis appear, receding back to Eden from whence it came.

***

Leaves hate not the wind;
Souls who contend with nature
Bring war to the world.

***
Had I been a man my job would have been clear: to find my way out of the desert and back into the greenery of Eden to find our Flower. Angels came, calling me forth from the deadly dunes, but I feared their judgement and ran in cowering shame. Secretly I sang of my true love lost - yet feared her to hear my heart and mock me in unbearable scorn. To this day I drink from bitter waters, roasting as a lamb over a flaming pit. Angels call me no more.

The taste of Flower love affected her as well. Hers was no longer a house of gold, instead revealing itself a house of mold. With eyes wide open she saw the half eaten apple upon the floor: she had bitten too soon, not willing to wait on paradise. "Let the birds wait on what is to be, I'm taking mine now." Smiling, the snake watered her fears: How can you leave now? What have you ever done on your own? You sang of holy gold - shall you also sing of the truth?

"No," she whispered, "not the truth!" And with that, reality became unreality. She closed her eyes, defiantly declaring them open. With the power of blindness, mold was the new gold, holographs held heaven and she constructed her stairway to nirvana - why would she ever leave such a place! Like dried blood, her love for me left a black stain to be denied and I an enemy of her state. Only one problem remained: The hole she dug through the sand forever seeped with the water of life, causing her to build an ever higher dam, restraining desires she once found true.


The dam held her tears dry as the years passed by, giving lie all was well. Also passing by were Dancers of Life, whom she now chided and lectured as foolish and unknowing. Yet what vexed her the most was that even though she had dammed her own River of life, infuriating dreamers in the world had not, sailing happily by with liberal love, never hiding their Flower of light. But resist she must the foul temptation to join the flow: she was of a family now and one must understand one must harden one's heart sometimes in life to do what is right.

Yet her children were not born with this understanding. Like all children, they came with dreams fresh and new, eager to live. "Why speak falsely?" ever asks the babe. But a parent can only teach what they themselves be - whether they be well or they be sick. Her daughter, though the younger, was strong and defiant to her mother's teaching, the problem parent labeling her a “problem child”. The older boy, however, was sensitive to his mother's plight and eager to please. He learned all too well one must dam the river of life to appear perfect - and only the perfect deserve love.

A grateful mother lavished him with praise, holding him tight in professed joy - even as his lonely eyes watched his friends swim ever further away down the River of life, doing as they wanted and exploring dreams he'd never know. How could the Good Boy dare to join them, abandoning his duties as a child, devestating his birthing parent? And as the snake reminded him: who knew if he could even swim anyway! But unlike his mother, his eyes were still open to the futureless and endless torment that lay before him. Looking into his mother's danceless eyes confirmed the hopelessness of his demise. But leave her he could not.

So rather than kill his mother, he killed himself.

No dam can hold a mother's tears for her child, her house washing away in the torrent. The sky drew black, the sun shone no more. In the budding trees above her, a nesting mother fed her babies and rejoiced in that simple gift. Blooms reached out, searching for the sun, reaching for its life giving light. Out of winter's woes, nature rebirthed herself in her infinite wisdom. Man has no say in the cycle of life, his will be dumb. But in this moment of searing torment, she could not accept that - silence her shattered savior.

It was I who caused her to build walls with no bridges, it was I who forced her eyes shut, it was I who gave rise to waters that burst forth so pitilessly and ruthlessly. I don't blame her for that. Deep in the desert night, as I clutch my side in sharp pain from the bitter water in my veins, I too curse her as the wounds of loneliness lash me mercilessly with razor blades of despair. I am the walking, bleeding dead with no love to share. All I have left is the truth - as does she.

For although the body was buried on this day, the day she truly buried her son was when she buried her love for me.