A short inspirational to be read while listening to the song that inspired it.
To be read with Þú Ert Sólin- by Olafur Arnalds
~
The autumn leaves swirled at his feet; he didn’t notice.
The death that filled the air was too much for Edgars’ battered heart to take. He despairingly lifted his head towards the rustling trees as the sun took no notice of him and said her goodbyes.
He could hear the absence of laughter that filled the air. The doom that surrounded him filled his soul with a kind of longing he’d never felt before.
The park he once took pleasure in was laid before him unchanged, yet different. No, he was the one that had changed. In a single moment his world had crashed, leaving him alone in the world. How could one move on after such loss? After such a life had been lived. After such love had been known…
He aimlessly came upon a bench that had “In memory” engraved on the backrest. He didn’t read the rest, one look and it was over. That was all it took to break down his wall.
“WHY?” He cried. He instantly looked toward the sky. “All I’ve ever known…gone. My life, my love, lie damp and lifeless in a grave. How can I survive?”
“My son….” he felt caress his cold face as the wind came tearing through the clearing.
Anger filled him, “How dare you refer to me as a son….” He sank down next to the bench, clutching at the bench arm with his left hand, and feeling the soft earth beneath him with his right.
“How dare you deny it. She was mine first. And so were you…”
Tears welled in his eyes. “For so long…..I’ve thought I was alone. Why choose now to try your hand at reconciliation?”
“Why has it taken this long for you to respond to my voice?”
Silence filled his mind and heart as he pondered those words with a new sense of discovery. Had he been running? He couldn’t say. So much had happened he didn’t know where the time had gone; he didn’t know where he had even been.
“Yes. You have been.” Came the voice, “It is time you look past your fears and failures and see what is waiting for you. What will never die. What I want to give.”
In spite of himself, while smirking he bitterly laughed. He didn’t want his truth to be known. But as his attempt at a cover up was laid bare as yet another failure, the bitter smirk turned to despair.
“What could you give me that could possibly fill this hole?” He finally asked, saying the words out loud into the crisp, silent air.
The wind rustled again, and he looked up at the rest of the engraving on the bench. One word caught his eye:
“LOVE.”
In recognition and, finally, surrender to the voice he hung his head. The tears overflowed into the soil below, mixing with the dirt and collecting as beads in the dust at his feet. He knew he couldn’t go on. Trapped in his skin he couldn’t escape. Staring at the mud, suddenly it became clear to him. And for once in God knows how long, a smile began to form on his face.
And he knew that maybe, just maybe he would be ok.
~
© Rachel Whitney 2010
