When she was shorter than three feet, it was as if she had a
giant teacup over her head;
the steaming liquid, an imagination dripping,
dripping.
At night awake, after dreams of resting in the grizzly arms
of a bear,
she’d watch stories dance behind closed lids, ears listening to whispered
lullabies
the voice; that of a bear’s.
Every night she asked her mom if the house would burn down while she slept.
Fire never came to burn down the house.
Fire never came while she slept.
But fire came. Her spirit burned, engulfed in an ageless flame. Sometimes,
if you’d watch for it, you could see the flickering gleam, like laughing
mischief hiding behind sea grey eyes.
Restless, she was a wanderer. Lost her mom frequently in the
grocery store, too busy watching the people. She’d watch, and then close her lashes so tight until she could imagine being their soul wrapped in skin.
Her
little voice prayed for them.
She slept in treetops, to be closer to the scarred night awning beyond to the unknown, unseen
Closer to the bear
He still sang her lullabies, different now, voice was
deeper, closer, almost a rumbling, a groaning from inside her.
She’d sit on her windowsill and trace the snowflakes until
they stopped. She’d stare into the sun until her eyes burned. She’d sing until
her throat bled. She’d let the sea pull her into its depths and refuse to leave
until it gave her gills. She’d skate in the moonlight until her toes were ice. She’d laugh until tears. She’d talk to the bear until all her dreams flowed out. He’d dream with her.
Until
Morning sun, distant day, she saw herself reflected in the glass of the oven
door, long eyes staring back. It was the first time she noticed herself: skin, face. Self-conscious had been birthed. Beauty was sought. Innocence,
carefree joy, all freedom betrayed by a silver toned deceit, like a rusty rope
chained around her ankles, dragging across concrete, silver screeching. She had been Cinderella, but in that moment, the midnight bell tolled, and
all was dust, magic gone, Eden lost.
It consumed her. The light went dark. She traced the lines of her bones as she fell apart.
Decayed, decaying.
Closer, closer, she came to what
she wanted, but there was no satisfying the abyss awakened, flesh crawling
away, eating at her heart. Deep stabs, inwardly bleeding; her vain sacrifice
naked at the altar, rotting ashes.
The ink stains filling those empty pages knew; knew her
troubled heart well. The bear knew and he barred his teeth at the beast growing and nestled close to the sleeping child, she felt him there, singing between
breathes… cradling the vanishing cage, paws gentle.
He fought for her. She was given to death, but he fought for
her life. He remembered her heart. He heard it crying beneath glazed eyes,
flame trembling, flickering.
Her heart, he longed for.
Her heart, he longed for.
She had forgotten what she had known of him. Forgotten what they’d shared; beauty, joy, freedom, that friendship so dear. She had traded him for a lie. And she couldn't get him back. She was Eve all over again; bitten into the swollen flesh, poison.
In a dark basement corner, she bled tears, bowed to knees, shattered on the concrete, too weak
too weak
There, she surrendered. Then she saw the bear, he hadn't left, she had lost the eyes
to see him, but there he was now. He came close, nestled his grizzly neck around her waist, her hands clutched his fur, deep dark fur, blanket of warmth. Not once had she been alone, abandoned. The prayers she prayed. He'd answer, answered, answering, answering still. The dreams vainly fantasized and chased away by doubt,
he'd heard, remembered.
She begged him to return, to remain, be what he had once been and rekindle that passionate blaze within her.
He said yes.
She begged him to return, to remain, be what he had once been and rekindle that passionate blaze within her.
He said yes.
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