I got broken by words on a thin page
I started a thousand years in the future, seeking solace in the New Year, understanding newness
Rustle backward to the beginning of time; an Aaron Weiss looking man speaks with a sword and someone writes it down later to be read by me on a plane translated into the one language I can understand, shattering me into thin shards, splayed flat on the ground.
A thousand years in the future, I read. It resembled continuity at the time, but would be perceived as mania later. I followed this Light through a poorly lit stone opening to reveal a bright door with a crimson banner hanging over it. Gold trim around it spelled out “truth” repeatedly in a woven cursive. The message of the banner was hidden from me, so I sought it in the illuminated hallway. I found a door reading “first resurrection”, and a tall man sitting at the foot of the door, and he passed me a footnote I couldn’t afford to discard. Opening the piece of paper, I read a reference.
Go here, it read. So I went. I went a little farther, for context’s sake.
There is a man suffering from cancer and infection. An abscess amassed on his left cheek, sealing his vision for the remainder of his life. His life would end eventually.
If someone could relieve this man’s suffering, would I let them?
The answer is no. No, because my vision has been sealed with the promise of mechanical warmth, magic meals, and hurried seconds. My vision is restored in this hallway. I see this man, and I see my hands. They are rotten with maggots and curled fingernails.
Here in this reference I have lost and gained. I clench my chest as truthtruthtruthtruth in gold tinsel fabric is sewn into my jacket pocket. The needle might hit me and I might bleed a little. Ambitious is the characteristic I have been proud to wear in that spot for all of my hurried seconds, but it is covered up now.
The suffering man has suffering friends. They live together in the trees.
I can’t stand the sight of them, so I turn around. The banner was there and unapologetically read like a siren, “blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”
I stepped off the plane and my vision clouded, but my hands looked like regular hands.
Senseless. 