veronica
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
♥ Tuesday, March 02, 2010
The earth, a formless void. A deep black that extends from the depths of eternity to the beyond of infinity. It is at 2 am that I switch off the lights. And the pitch black consumes and engulfs like an everlasting fog. A fog that like a hospice where a classmate lies, makes no cognizance of the time or day, with no promises of what tomorrow brings.
And what is being without the promise of tomorrow like? It is like being an object of rejection in the midst of a fist throwing crowd that has neither remorse nor sadness for the cruelty inflicted. It is the confusion of being welcomed with palm leaves in one instance, and being chased away while bearing the weight of a wooden cross in another. It is what makes one cry out "eli eli lama sabachtani".
A lady bursts forth from the crowd. She has nothing to offer apart from a white piece of linen. A white piece of linen against His face dripping red from the thorns enmeshed into his forehead is all she has to give. And maybe that is all that there is to give. No words to offer. Just a gesture. A gesture speaks in the language of love.
A language of love. What do we make of that these days? It is in that same hospice where a classmate lies, that a language of love echoes. It echoes through our caritas where we hear and understand. More importantly, when we feel. And it is felt by all of us who have now become, in the course of time different and unfamiliar with each other. Maybe on the road we might look past or through each other as absolute strangers. But a same history- of punishments like standing in the middle of the courtyard, of the principal we can never forget, of the all-too-familiar rotund- is something that we have to re-feel together. And feeling together and feeling with, is what two persons, estranged by the distance and duration of each other's absence, experience when they say "lets pray for him".
In a random manuever, I rest my hands on the blinds and through the gaps a warm orange glow from the street lamp seeps through. It seeps through and quietens the screaming silence of the darkness. And then, out of that formless void, there is light.
