Hey guys, more random thinking but it seemed strong to me and the end ...really surprised me
What was lost?
No matter what consideration is given to our issue that seems to me at least in my mind the unanswerable question. It is this which plagues me over all others. The wound is felt most surely and there can be no doubt of its intent and yet, it has missed its mark, I still live! I am not destroyed… But neither am I whole.
This thing, this wound leaves me reeling, aching for answers as at the tomb of someone unknown, not knowing how to grieve or even if I should! Is he gone? Perhaps in the way of the miraculous that boy still walks as yet unfound, unknown yes, but living and whole. Much more likely though still a miracle he lives torn and scared looking for me even as I am looking for him. Perhaps this is my status… my curse. And yet for me it seems a hopeless quest as I cannot know who I am looking for, I have no name for which to search even though his name…is mine. And again no body over whom I may cry.
The body exists but who is it? Perhaps something in the way of Shelly, that body stolen has been re-made, created larger than life in the fires of a hell undeserved. He was hammered, woven, broken and knit all without consent or care to the cosmetic, no thought to function. As he stands heat from the flame which seared him still radiates. From him the horror of me is reflected. Yet even still there are parts that are good, things which prove useful and it may be that the thing I thought lost is not lost at all only camouflaged hidden until that time when it may be uncovered and then, such power! Very much like Frankenstein’s Adam there is such strength, incredible resolve and wisdom. Hard earned yes but available and combined with the compassion of the one who has been there, it seems to change the question entirely. Maybe it is not so much a question of what was lost…. As what was gained.
Either I will find a way, or I will make one.