i sat alone in an old, dark, wooden room. the scent of dust filled the
air. i turned to see a window, but it was almost just as dark outside.
the moon just tiny wisps of light through the metallic winter sky.
straining my eyes, i made out a few shapes in the room. a bookshelf,
with books i could not read. some paintings on the wall, that i could
not see, and the faint shimmer of a mason jar on a table. i walked
over to the jar and picked it up. i couldn't see what was inside. i
brought it up to the window. i made out a small shape. a fruit, or a
dead rodent, maybe.
just then, i heard a voice. a soothing voice, like a mother putting
her child to sleep.
if the souls you have freed, the hearts
you have cut, the feet you have stepped
on, and the eyes you have darkened, had
been given a voice, would they give you
the forgiveness you so desperately want?
before i could process the faint words, the window opened, drawing
heavy mist into the room, filling the air with the scent of midnight
summer rain.
the sky exploded into a painting of silver and yellow. i was starting
to feel numb, but i stumbled to the window. the moon was out. that
massive, orange circle of sadness had been calling me all along.
the mason jar had a lot to say, but it didn't have the answer for me.
the night sky remained silent, but it told me all i needed to know.
