Let's call this a teaser. It's a fragment of a story idea. Does it make you want more?
The days of fever and its spiteful sleep unleashed memories from within the old man's mind. Those of another life, in another land and another time.
He knew himself, a Mongol, a leader of men, under attack and bound by honor to protect the many while the young daughter who proudly stood at his side and helped as one of only 6 years could, was his true heart. For beyond the father's love, which no one could doubt, he also knew that she held the secret - the gift or curse, that would change man's future for generations to come.
Her name was Tsao-Chi and she worshiped her father, sure he knew all. In moments free from toil or study, they fought with swords of bamboo, built toy castles of sticks, clay and leaves, and made fire dance with trails of black powder. All of this drove little Chi's mother mad at its impropriety for a girl-child, but what is a father with no son to do?
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Lament
Inspired by life and The Book of Lamentations.
And so it ends. And so it begins.
We enter a season that will only hurt all. Each other. Our child. Our families.
The loss engulfs me in dread. I put a brave face on it for my child, but inwardly, I quake. There's a hollowness in my soul and lead on my chest; from task to task, an effort to persevere. I age. This year will steal five.
There's the loss of the other; that is obvious, but there's the loss of the family. Christmas mornings, now empty. Game nights, played out. Laughter, no more. The singing, unanswered. The banter, now silent.
My mother-in-law, so good to my child, ripped from my life. My own aging mother, who benefited the gift of the other, now left to me alone to aid. All while I drown in a sea of un-shared responsibility, anguish, shame, doubt and regret.
The next year is to be hell. One I share no small part in inviting. I see the justice. I feel remorse for my failings. Perhaps God is vengeful, after all.
People I love, rely on me; my sole reason to push on, even as the cause seems beyond hope. Reinvent our lives. Make them warm, happy and love-filled for my child. Make it less lonely for me.
God, see my heart. Know my regret. Feel the love I have to give. Help me make amends and learn to live well. I can't believe you would put me here to fail. The clock is running and more deserving than I, require me to be a better man. Please help me.
And so it ends. And so it begins.
We enter a season that will only hurt all. Each other. Our child. Our families.
The loss engulfs me in dread. I put a brave face on it for my child, but inwardly, I quake. There's a hollowness in my soul and lead on my chest; from task to task, an effort to persevere. I age. This year will steal five.
There's the loss of the other; that is obvious, but there's the loss of the family. Christmas mornings, now empty. Game nights, played out. Laughter, no more. The singing, unanswered. The banter, now silent.
My mother-in-law, so good to my child, ripped from my life. My own aging mother, who benefited the gift of the other, now left to me alone to aid. All while I drown in a sea of un-shared responsibility, anguish, shame, doubt and regret.
The next year is to be hell. One I share no small part in inviting. I see the justice. I feel remorse for my failings. Perhaps God is vengeful, after all.
People I love, rely on me; my sole reason to push on, even as the cause seems beyond hope. Reinvent our lives. Make them warm, happy and love-filled for my child. Make it less lonely for me.
God, see my heart. Know my regret. Feel the love I have to give. Help me make amends and learn to live well. I can't believe you would put me here to fail. The clock is running and more deserving than I, require me to be a better man. Please help me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)