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Kethry
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082
Victoria Australia

0 posted 2004-09-11 09:35 AM


* Gentle readers I warn you this story contains some graphic images but it is purely fictional.

I awaken to blood on the sheets and tears on the pillow. The blood of innocence lost binds me together and holds me in its claw… Hail Mary full of grace blessed art thou among women... Blood seeps from open wounds, from hooks and knives and spatulas not made for cooking. I can feel the scrape and grind inside me. Hail Mary… Like a canker worm eating its way through my body.

Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners…Pray for us sinners’…hollow words, not meant for the likes of me. Who would pray for me? And why? I’ve made my bed. My mother used to say you make your bed and you lie in it…Funny, it was funny at the time; of course you lie in it, how else would you sleep? Now sleep comes faintly and lies come in layers.I lie to live, I lie to give and live a lie, when all else will die.
Innocence lost; what an easy phase. What a complex life experience. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. No more fruit for me; it has died and lies rotting on the ground…in the sink…in the bin. Cast away like so much refuse. Not recognizable as a gift. Bloody and muddy, forsaken but not forgotten. At least not by me…

Holy Mary mother… If you had the choice, would you - could you have cast away the chance of life? What would the world have done then? But you had no choice. I had no choice either. You must know that! Mary mother, precious words but not for me, never for me anymore. I bleed inside and out, yet only the outside is seen. My soul bleeds silently on the inside.

Hail Mary full of grace...Can there be grace? - Grace without condemnation? I’ve never found it. Love at any price is my motto – or was until it was too late and I knew the price was too high. This blood price cannot ever pay for the limited love I knew. - Limited by time, by youth, by marriage – but not to me.  It was a game to you, nothing more and how easily you surrendered that which I had fought for, surrendered for and bled for…

The Lord is with thee…I wish - I wish you were Jesus, here with me; bearing my pain, taking the quick slash of knife and hook, that removes a hand a foot, all in tiny, tiny parts with nails as small as forgiveness.
Perhaps you are but I've seen your nails and deep wounds that seep blood, eyes filled with pain show no compassion for a sinner like me. - Cold eyes, dead eyes with no power to stem your own pain. Let alone… let alone the sins of the world. Thorns cloud the brow and the thoughts. Dear baby Jesus, lying in a cradle… baby, baby you were here but now you’re gone…so sorry, so sorry. What life would you have? It’s better this way. At least it’s better this way. You have no pain. Do you have pain? - Too young to have life?  - Were you too young to feel pain? Thorns drip blood onto the face; I drip blood onto the sheets. -Clean, pure, white, once spotless sheets. Spotless sheets, sinless sheets, sinless me – once. Too long ago to remember. - Before love came with a price tag.

Lamb of God who taketh away…Lamb, was the sacrifice that saved Isaac. Where is the lamb to save my child? Too late, too late. – My life a series of too little, too late. I came too late into his life. He was already tied and drowning with a millstone he refused to be free of. He gave me too little love and I in my need, clutched desperately at it like a sailor will cling to a life-raft long after the ship has sunk.

Blood on the saddle… that’s what it comes down to in the end. Blood payment in sacrifice for pleasure. - So small a pleasure, so long a time of payment. - A lifetime to regret, to forget.

I drift for a while in time and space with fragments of my life running in rewind through my head.

Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners’ now and at the hour of our death…now and at the hour of our death. Little deaths make the big one less important. It is the little deaths that will kill us. The constant pin pricking of hurts not healed, building layer upon layer of scar tissue and scabs not healed, the blood price we pay for being human, for making mistakes, for living. Is the price too high? Who can know except one who has been in the place of sacrifice? I bleed onto once spotless sheets while tears leak silently from my eyes. Hail Mary full of Grace…

Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind.  Unknown



© Copyright 2004 Lynne Dale - All Rights Reserved
merlynh
Member
since 1999-09-26
Posts 411
deer park, wa
1 posted 2004-09-11 06:23 PM


Interesting!  I often look for some composition that will inspire me to write better, though I realize nothing is purely fictional
In a pink sort of way when it comes to expression.  This piece is a fine example of a tormented soul dealing with the outside world and the pain it inflicts as a result.  A higher understanding that we all do not  have supreme control; the mechanism of the mind is so no single mind is complete without faith.  When faced with reality one needs to reach out to a Supreme Being for hope.  Thanks for sharing.

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