monologue*

"Oh my god.
You're bleeding ..."

it smells of earth
clay and pottery class
a piece folds over
and falls into your hands
you look down
and press it against your body
but all it does
is squeeze through your fingers

"Oh my god.
I can't stop it.
I can't stop the bleeding."

it's warm outside
your hands are clammy
from playing in the sea
the air hangs of salt
and a panic
of the setting sun
the heat escapes
into a hole on the horizon
and you shiver

"Oh my god.
Help me. Help me.
Tell me what to do,
for God's sake."

in slow motion
you fold neatly
onto the ground
like a leaf in autumn
the earth creeps into your clothes
and the sea slows into a memory
offstage
the sun is broken into a million pieces
and sprinkled back into the sky

"Don't die on me.
Goddamnit, don't you die on me.
Oh god, please don't die on me ..."

you're looking up
while everyone is looking down
you open your mouth
to share the secrets
but the words are swatted away
by those grasping to understand
and before anyone realizes
the wind carries your breath away
and returns it to the sea

"Oh god,
where are you ..."


* Sketch by Adrian Tomine. This piece was inspired by the accumulation of the tragic school shootings that have taken place in the recent years and my realization of not knowing how to comprehend them. The world is such a strange place. Somedays, I can't help but ask how there can be a God. And then on some other days, I can't help but think that there must be. But ultimately (and ironically), I don't think it really matters. If we're able to escape from our egocentric view of the world, the monologue we write for ourselves, we wouldn't be sitting around waiting for a response that will never come. And instead, we'd listen to the world around us. And maybe then we wouldn't think the world in some extremist way leading us to take some tragic action. Anyhow, I'm ranting.