To His Grave
Written Spring 2000
He keeps to the shadows
A man of hidden futures
Constantly beaten down by his father
And what keeps him here
A pilgrim to good violence
And a lord to higher praise
But still knocked down.
Still, and quiet.
On the dirty ground
This boy who sees through man's eyes and held them
Nurtured with the idea of death
But by century's he is lost
Lost in a world that does not belong to him
Lost away and years before the sun
His soul burns and aches without hers near him
But this boy does not know that.
He does not realize what lies past the dark shadows of the night
And he is foolish,
Headlong
And to his grave.
Desirae Wilson.
The night was little; with the haunting sign of Venus lime lighting the window. Like a twig in fire Michael curled up onto his couch, not noticing or caring that the sky was speaking to him. He was not learning that this time, the call was real.
Michael dreamed of Vilandra that night. A glowing sky of white covered her grave. The fallen beauty, a princess gone far into his dreams. Not even in death did he believe this was real.
Rath wondered with scars of war and death of his beloved. He tilted his body above the stones that bared the names of his wife and son.
Pierced on the ground, their memorial was treacherous. His infant son murdered, and Vilandra, a name that he still cherished had brought herself to death. He didn't understand, he said he was coming home, she should have waited. But no, she took herself to the waters and like ash she bared herself under the waves. Rocks and cedar hills. A place deep under where the greatest jewel lay. There was no reason for her to care for him, but she did, she was all that he ever knew of love. And know she was gone. A silver face gone black with no reasoning at all. No way for him to forgive.
And then his son, bitten by hate, and exposed to was far to soon. A boy who will never become a man. He was the embodiment of the past, know buried beneath tangled leaves and harsh barley. Still dreaming Raths awareness was tempered. Still lingering. All the while he did not see the forces at work around him.
From behind him a wisp of hate, as Sersi with a bladed knife struck him in the back.
Michael felt everything that Rath was feeling. The sting that spread through his body like rough water. Also hearing the bloody screams of a dieing man. Fallen to the ground and not knowing who his attacker was.
He had fallen on to the ground; the same ground where his beloved now rested. Death to himself on the same land that she now existed on, blood on the dirt where her blood had spread.
Michael awoke to a sharp pain in his back that by the time his eyes were open had spread through his left arm and down to his hand. He immediately jumped. As though he had been lying on nails and had been pricked. Once standing, the pain did not subside. He gave it a moment but it still did not stop.
He searched his mind for a moment, not knowing what was going on. He glanced to the clock, seeing that he had been asleep for hours. He did not remember what he had dreamed about though. He pushed his right arm up to his shoulder and rubbed it but the pain did not stop. When he still thought about it, he could not find it. He had forgotten, but instead, he looked out the window, seeing Venus, the haunting V in the night sky. A message from the past. He was in a trance amongst himself, wondering if Isabel had had the same dream. Or was he the only one.
A soft knock came from the door, and startled him, But within a moment, he knew who it was, it was Isabel.
Michael thought he was walking but physically he was running to the door. And as he opened it he remembered everything became clear. Flashes and memories burst past his eyes and it was true, Isabel was standing they're, panting, and drips of sweat rolled through her appearance. Her hair was flat and a mess. She looked broken. Like a porcelain doll, who was dropped and cracked into a million pieces, they looked at each other, gazing into the others minds. Falling and intertwining into the others thoughts.
"You saw it too?"
Asked Isabel. Her face visibly. Losing control with her eyes filling with tears. Michael held out his arms to her. And she excepted, Michael held her as they both cried. There faces remaining lost in a past that didn't exist anymore. Both of them saw the other meet their fate. They both saw their son, how he was only baby. Lying there, cold and dead. And they cried for him, and each other.
Sometime later, Isabel had fallen asleep on the couch. And Michael had risen and gone to the window. His body still in a cold sweat, and his thoughts still in shock from the nights events. And with his silver hand up against the window, he saw Venus and in seeing all that he had seen he thought about how, he had one to his grave.