Have Mercy on Me
I
don't know if the gods really listen to a damn thing. But I know they
like to slip down to the ground, they like to reach out and mess up a
life or two.
As if humans need that kind of assistance.
I
used to tear up the world. I didn't need to be immortal to do it.
I
would take my sword and carve out any space I wanted, never-mind the
blood or the bone that got in the way.
I ruled the world. And I
lost the world.
I thought nothing could be as bad as that. Nothing
could be as bad as watching all my plans go up in smoke.
But I
don't know much of anything now.
I know how to walk and how to
run. I know how to stand and how to fight.
I am familiar with
anger and with grief.
My fingers know the hilt of leather-bound
brass and my skin knows the feeling of wind.
And all those things
I can't conceive of... I leave them behind.
She is here and
wanting something I don't know how to give.
Or if I even have the
very thing she so desires from me.
I know a lot about fear. I know
very little about love. I know a lot about hatred. I know very little
about joy.
All those things I let go of so very long ago, they
haunt me now as she turns away.
As she walks away, I retreat my
vision back to the ground.
I don't think the gods hear a
thing. If they did and if they cared, then the dead would be alive
and the pain would be healed. But they just play around with the
mortals.
As I have played around with the notion of being whole
and real, of deserving this girl's devotion.
And as she has played
around with being my friend, my salvation.
But I don't know much of anything now.
END