Forms go to her. Dark shadow palette and tossed hair. Mountain after mountain. Snow-capped peaks. Valleys filled with complicated algorithms. There are shadow-lands but I dare not walk them. It’s the way of people thinking they know me.
Undoing defenses. When we touch the essence of another human we touch the essence of God. We are cut from the same cloth.
When I’m touched by another soul the reaction is involuntary. My body and life and mind are yours. I raise like gates. Unfold like paper-crane-origami. Starting at the chest. Working out. Spirit smoking through pipes of bone. Great responsibility. And precarious. This is why betrayal is poison barbs.
I ask again. Who do you suppose I am? I hear the sounds of Eden: morning birds chatting at the rising sun when it breaks rain forest horizon. Who do you say I am? I will be what you say for the time we lie together.
She caresses the top of my head. Drapes fingers over my face. I am a killer. Did you know I have done that? You ask how it feels. In this world where you know hidden truths. Where your knowing is like a tree’s inner rings. Where I age and wait for someone to find me in the forest. I tell you killing is dropping a match into a fire. Some metaphors are more feeling than explanation.
Her legs touch against mine like railroad ties. I am a saver. Did you know? I’ve done that as well. In an alternate world where I’m brave enough to tell you about saving life and administering aid. Flagging EMTs to pooling blood. Like threading a drop of water. Some similes are more feeling than explanation.
She dances a finger over my chest and moves, strong, against her understanding. Swimming in delicate strokes. I am a liar. I have told lies about myself. My intentions. Until I no longer know my truth. Anytime I speak I am stacks of toothpick lies. This feels like vines wrapping around castle battlements.
She twists into half-contortion, for a moment there is the taste of escaped-prisoner-sweat. On tongue and lips. Cherry-blossom-hues. Breathing heavily, she laughs which makes me laugh. I am waves rippling out from the center of a vast desert. Once lush. Once green.
I have been the leaver. The cheater. The divorcer. Did you know? I have been the thief. The fighter. The alcoholic. Did you know? I have been the darkness and the sexer and the deceiver. Did you know? I have been so human ‘twould make your soul groan.
We lie together but I am nothing like you think. Another arrow deflected off the same worn shield. Dented from many battles. Shunting spears left or right.
You ask what I will show you today. Dark roads through walnut forests. Looking out the window I find no answer in the gloaming. They’re the same penumbra. Not quite light or dark. It’s the change I love most. Transitions from place to place. Person to person. Character form to character form.
All these forms littered along the way. Archetypes and selves. Dried sticks making a trail behind me. Not so I can go back. So I can see where I have been. Shedding old forms and entering new forms. Such is the motion of becoming.
I am overwhelmed, sometimes, by beauty. Stunned into silence. I weep at the beauty in the world. At the beauty in things that are not supposed to be beautiful. I weep for the prisoners who are beautiful. For plastic sacks flying in the wind.
I will make the ferry crossing. From Eden to Eden. No longer in the interstitial. Out of the penumbra into completion. But for now I am still progressing, in the interstitial region between here and there. Neither unmade nor made, but in the making. Many forms behind me. Many tales. The great human undertaking.
Her face is made of snowfall. She enters a trance and lays a tree-bough-arm across my chest. I take a deep breath. Put a kiss on her forehead. Did you know. Quietly. Did you…know?
Roman Newell is hard at work on his debut novel — 20XX — a work in magical realism, which explores the complexities and conflicts in modern day societies amid confusing social norms, rapidly evolving technology, and impact traumas. Follow Roman’s Substack to be added to the 20XX contact list.
This is just so stunning. SO. STUNNING.
Comments do not adequately describe the way I sit in awe when I'm done reading. Softly shake my head, mutter f-ing chriiiiiiist under my breath. And then restack. You set a high bar. Every damn time