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Saturday, May 14, 2005

the ironic anchor

recently sleep never comes without realisation and acceptance that tomorrow might very well be my death day. it's this increasing paranoia that some disease is contaminating me or that i have been and am still under a perpetual bad spell which leaves me vulnerable to falling anvils and lightning bolts that strike twice.
surprisingly it is not like what i think it is, this death business [gasp! i said the B word!]. it wasn't like before; cold shivers and swirling mummified corpses.
it was the serenity of an end of one thing and the nervous anticipation of the birth of another. it was like packing suitcases in preparation for a permanent hiatus. or an eternal journey. or something like that. then there is the strong pull and hold of the people i have to leave where the heart is yanked and trapped in a possessive grip.
the gentle prod of death has therefore taught me to weave grief into intelligible patterns and use it as a blanket for my night worries. thick, stifling, yet an ironically firm anchor to my earthbound existence.
Posted by NHJ 5/14/2005 08:03:00 pm