The Great Terror

 

Keeling over the ledge in a semi-drunken state, I can feel the gravity pounding down on me. Laboriously enough, I tread my way through hundreds of moors that have accumulated, magically, on the roof-top of an edifice I know not about.

Some faces are recognizable – random connections I couldn’t be fretful of. I’m having difficulty breathe because of the presentiment that’s ubiquitous – I know what is to come and I haven’t the gumption to look it in the eye. I’m still keeling over the ledge – ready to free fall into nothingness; waiting to crash and burn someone’s coupé parked not so judiciously close the parapet that masquerades as the foyer for a decrepit structure.

I’m fainting – this has happened before and I’m well au fait with the retching that follows. I’m soaring into her arms that weren’t open until a minute ago.

You have passed – I know this now with certainty and I can’t breathe.

My tears are very real and they’re rolling down my cheek – this reservoir is accompanied by my willingness to jump an existence that I can’t be worried about any longer.

I had promised to shield you – vowed to switch places should such an opportunity befall us. I can’t live without you by my side – I know only you and your nurture and love forms the premise of everything that’s laudable about me. Your voice…I’m begging Him to let me heed your voice.

I look maniacally for a shirt, your shirt…a kurta and manage to find one draped over the hook behind the door. Your scent lingers – it’s like none other I’ve known. I’m pressing my face into it and sobbing for I’m feeling life ebb away from my orbit. I’m rushing into her arms now.

She’s lying on the divan in our older apartment – lying next to a man who looks just like you. She watches me teleport to where she is – rudely awakened from a well deserved repose. Her eyes are kind and at once, she knows she has another to save.

I wish not to persist but know I’ll find something resembling transitory peace in her arms. I’m rushing into those arms while still looking at you juxtaposed against her…the expression on your face is one of being wounded. You are dismayed by my state of affairs.

I’m finding it hard to breathe now Dooshka…I’m weeping inconsolably just right now, while I’m typing this. I love you beyond what words can articulate. And I’m not sure why I’m tortured by nightmares of your…I can’t even get myself to say it.

I woke up; aware of a throbbing ache in my throat just like the one I had the last time I tried to smother a scream. Just like a calf that’s learning to walk for the first time ever, I totter with my enormity on feet that are swollen and try to find the strength to leverage this largesse and sprint towards you. Imagine my surprise, when on opening the door; you’re standing right in front of it with arms out-stretched.

Please don’t leave me ever. Let me pass instead – I won’t be able to endure otherwise. And I’m driven insane by the regularity of these nightmares that have attacked my tranquility and calm for every night since the past few months.

I don’t know what to make of this – I don’t want any of it to be a premonition. I will…die if any of it were to come true. You are everything I’ve survived for through generations of past lives. And the thought of losing you, regardless of your counsel that morning, is a fear that’ll rip me apart.

Don’t let go of me.

~ by alternativefrock on March 20, 2008.