Digger Dagger

Going down this broken street and lifting sidewalks I gaze at the top of a seven story building, the first floor seems finished, brick layered well, the second not so, frames are taking form, cement has been polished, the platform is ready for a face of rails and bricks, and the third floor same promising look, and the fourth floor what stopped me there a horse. A dark horse live as I am, huffing and snarling; the giant body hastily reared on two legs at my apparition and jumped! Oh me! He jumped! How and why did he climb himself there a cliff? I drew some strength to follow the falling animal into the carcass, his legs trice mangled, an eye popped out, a pool of blood and his jaws brutally agape reaching for that last vacuumed breath never caught.

I killed her, I took the dagger she was so happily showing me, the rubies and emeralds so magnificent, the handle a masterpiece of craftsmanship, so well into the hand, so easy to move through the air and blade into her; why she was so in loved with it, I handed it to her a few times, and she bleed well for it, her last period. Her eyes wide open with excitement, not ecstasy, a dagger excites. Her mouth wide open wanting to scream her last orgasm but didn’t, I surprised her, when the dagger first drew itself a place, she went into rapture and deep silence, she was quiet behind and within herself, the noise of her existence frozen, her eyes bulging gawking me; I left it in her.

I walked out of her apartment and asked myself how firmly she was now connected to that craftsman in Damascus 2000 years ago; that had taken the skill from heaven and used it so luxuriously and made such a dagger so crafted to endure the passage of time until it made its final arc into her, a long distance relationship over the centuries; and the rhythm of his actions still moving forward in time to cease the time of another, and curse me I thought, for falling victim to his endeavor.

My walk caught me in front of a water well, a dog, a German Shepard, was on top of an old green stool beside it, I felt the thirst brought by all blood, and walked towards the well to drought my thirst, only the dog altered by my approaching jumped into the water bucket and fell to his death. I did not hear water splash, I heard a thud, a splat, an echoing quiet, I froze for a moment, remembering then that my guardian soul was a dog, that same exact soul that just jumped to his death. I searched behind me and felt my back exposed, two piercing energy points were poking at me from where the universe holds us, like two shotguns being pressured to the left and the right of my spinal chord. My throat dry, my neck tensing so that I could barely move my head, I felt that from behind the entire universe was ready to penetrate me with its elephant tusks.

Long and agonizing are the days I remember after the horse, that woman and the sudden death of my guardian dog. Often I contemplated that I would not live on, and my heart was swelling heavily and hurting enough that I thought for sure would burry me in cardiac arrest. But not to be was that, for I lived on and everyday was longer for it, and the nights with my hands on my throat swelling my esophagus brought me no joy, I rested my limbs, but the muscles stayed tense, the elephant tusks firmly in place.

Day after day longer yet still and eternity behind, I decided to forgive myself, the anguish was driving me insane, I decided to forgive myself. A saint can be carried to malice by his instincts and still be a saint, I am a saint, I forgive myself. I am a human and for that I have more reason to forgive myself. Within me rage forces that twist my wrist bloodletting the bodies of others, I have been fragile in that I have not been able to resist them, but neither was that dagger able to halt itself, nor that craftsman in Damascus designer of such instrument which may have seemed a gentle artist of his time, and a calm voice and not a killer poised to victimize over the centuries in silence. I asked that my karma not take into account my actions for I have been purified by my humanity, my sin was done indeed but it was undone by its own irresistibility.
I purify myself, I breath deep the good energy expurgating the bad energy that took hold of my hand, a cleansing, I will lose some weight to lower my ability to retain cosmic dust, and therefore make myself more invincible to the influences of the universe, a river of mountain water runs through my veins now, green plants adorn their passage, a reckoning with my spiritual self has been born from my crime, the cleansing of my soul begun with the digger dagger.

RC