Light On the Devil's Chord - the Memory
Light—I was barely even myself, but some light…
Her light—no my own enemy Himself!
—The Lord Eternal!—
How could I let this happen to me? –
And I could feel my hand around her tiny arm,
Anxiously awaiting the moment for her to fill me
with worth.
The answers came,
But there—first—was a memory…
Her memory, as a child…
She took me to the memory
And I was there before
That gray day—I had forgotten her,
But I was there,
And I had buried this bewilderment for centuries…
She was a little girl
About to meet Death for the first time—
“Grandpa…” Her voice whispered like a prayer.
“Grandpa, where are you?”
She did not ask how he was,
She asked where he was…
I remember thinking how clever she had been…
He had survived that ugly war—
The war that Whitman had deemed beautiful—
But his old wounds were open again,
And he was being consumed by
The memory—
A memory becoming the present.
From the creaky bed,
His hand tightly gripped her arm, and
She gasped with fright.
“I am dying,” he spat out with all his soul.
“But you…we—will live forever.”
Those sweet eyes…those sweet eyes locked into his.
I wished for them now in my own.
“Grandpa…please don’t die. I saw him again.
I saw the devil at my door.
He was singing a song— our song.
He said he was you—
that you were gone.
Don’t be gone.
Don’t leave me alone.
Don’t let him win.”
He sighed deeply.
His eyes rolled back and closed
But his mouth opened.
“He cannot win, my dear one
He cannot win—he will not win!
You must sing with him,
And you will change him.
Don’t be afraid of the Devil
For He needs your light
And you will win him,
As long as you are not afraid…”
The child wept...
“I’m not afraid
I am heartbroken.
Damn him!!!”
She ran to the window and opened the curtains.
Light entered the dark room
And hit his veiny eyelids.
They opened,
and he was gone.
He was smiling,
For he knew eternal life would enter soon…
Her childlike voice damning me
Suddenly filled me with rage. . .
I ceased the song with my cry:
“why are you showing me this?”
She was no longer a child,
And was heavily clad in black,
Covered, head to toe in
Smoky black billows
As suddenly as it came the rage was gone—
I wanted to embrace her,
To help her remember where she is
And who I really am.
Her voice shook with fervor:
“He knew your affliction was deeper than
The void in which chaos was melded
Into the creation of Earth.
He knew your cries,
How you reached to me
In a desperate unknowing
You had tasted a light in the beginning
And had forgotten it in the void
But now—now you feel it again, do you not?”
Hands slipped from under the black billows
They slipped into my own
As if she knew that touch was all I needed
To understand,
To accept.
The words slipped before my mind could fathom
“Your grandfather is right.
I cannot win—I love you, and I cannot win,
So just please.
Let me in…”
She wanted to speak,
but I lifted my hand to her gaping mouth.
“Too long have I been screaming for you—from the outside…
But now I see clearly that your hope is not without me
It is me…it was always me…
Just as I am in your hope,
I need to be inside you.
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2020
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