A Murder trial.
My alter ego takes the stand in his defense of my supposed untimely death.
They still talk about him: that young man who lived in a body like mine, with a face like mine, with a name like mine.
They say they mourn his death, but his life was more to be mourned than anything that could've happened after I came into the picture.
You see, they only liked him because they used him. Wanted me to be the one that fulfilled their desires and fueled their egos and ambitions. He was a pitiful pawn in the game that they played, the one sacrificed to save the others.
They didn't care for him. They hated him. And he, like so many who get used to the abuse and the neglect stayed in the game because he was too foolish to know that he could change the rules.
He needed me.
I came at a point in his life when they would have forced him into suicide, disgusted with who he was--- but not realizing what he could've become.
He saw me as his way out, and I convinced him to let me in...to allow me to take him to the level of greatness that was just within his grasp.
And he believed me: whether out of just desperation or pure sincerity, he believed my promise of liberation, succumbing to the freedom I created with just an unspoken vow.
So into his vessel I crept, filling his body with the ability it needed to withstand the humiliation and the ridicule. I revived his mind with the power to make and stand behind his own decisions, as well as accept his own limitations.
Instead of killing him, I gave him life. A life where he could use his abilities and talents to not only help others, but heal himself.
The real reason they mourn his passing is that he no longer lives to feed their egos or fight their battles.
He has his own battle to fight.
And as I look in the mirror today thinking about the man I was yesterday, I can't help but think of the war that raged within this vessel at one time.
Now the flag of surrender has been planted, the wounds are being nursed, and the one they say was precious to them is gone forever.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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"The Dark Angel Speaks"
This reads as a prophetically profound work of art.
Hats off for this write, enjoyable and also mystical at the same time.
Properly entitled indeed, appreciate the sharing,
From the Heart of an Artist Quiet Storm
enjoyed!!
You're Excellence in the making...
Tami