Sometimes, like right now, mocking, sarcastic words get in my head, and I write them down and imagine going viral. But then I hit delete hoping to be left wordless and alone. Words are the vehicle of vanity, triviality, and lies. There has to be something true beyond words.

In daydreams, I stare steadily into the eyes of the current Russian dictator, our own recent dictator-in-waiting, Brazil’s and Britain’s buffoons; I imagine having the depth of soul to crack their stony defenses and open some tiny pocket of humanity and compassion inside them. Their grotesque, malignant egos melt away and flocks of bluebirds and goldfinches are freed from within, winging their way to freedom. Cue: Julie Andrews singing “The Hills are Alive…”

O.K., I’ll admit it. What I actually imagine is vultures pecking their eyes out while I hold them frozen in place with a magic spell. Then I smash their skulls on rocks. I… There’s a disturbance to my left. I hold up my hand. “Not now,” I say, turning to God, who always stops by midsentence. “I’m on a confessional roll.”

“You certainly are,” God says, as she multiplies and divides. She’s heavy with child. With children. She’s heavy with hope and courage. She’s heavy with bombs. She’s swallowed the detonators; the bombs will explode, and today, like every single day on this blessed earth, she will die a hundred thousand deaths. And in this fragmented, impossible way, God, too, will go viral.

“Come with me,” God says. I back up, shaking my head.

“Where?” I ask. “Nirvana? The life I deserve next? The cross? The front lines? The back alleys?  The grave?”

“Yes,” God says. “Come.”

I take a reluctant step. Then another. It’s rocky terrain. I stumble. I get up and examine my scrapes and bruises. I hurry toward the fleeting purple robe in my pointy shoes. The bridge across the icy stream has been destroyed. I try to leap across, but I slip and fall in. I think I’ve sprained my ankle. I’m wet, cold, hungry, disabled, lost, afraid, and angry. I’m a refugee, hunted prey, weakened by age and a soft life. “Stop!” I shout at God. “You’ve made your point.”

“I did?” God asks, in disbelief. “I wasn’t aware I had a point.”

“Not funny,” I say, rubbing my frozen hands together.

“Agreed,” God says. “Not funny.”

3 thoughts on “Lies

  1. I came across this after reading you, such is life.

    “I counted my years and discovered that I have less time to live from here on out than what I have lived until now.

    I feel like that kid who won a pack of sweets: the first ones he ate with pleasure, but when he realized there were few left he began to taste them intensely.

    I no longer have time for endless meetings where statute, rules, procedures and internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be achieved.

    I no longer have time to support dumb people who, despite their chronic age, haven’t grown up.

    My time is too short: I want the essence, my soul is in a hurry. I don’t have much sweets in the package anymore.

    I want to live next to human, very humane people, who know how to laugh at their mistakes and who are not inflated by their triumphs and who take on their own responsibilities. This is how you defend human dignity and move towards truth and honesty.

    It’s the essential that makes life worth living.

    I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch hearts, people who have been taught to grow up with gentle touches of their soul.
    Yes, I’m in a hurry, I’m rushing to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.

    I don’t mean to waste any of the leftover sweets. I’m sure these will be delicious, a lot more than the ones I’ve eaten so far.

    My goal is to reach a satisfied and peaceful end with my loved ones and my conscience.

    We have two lives and the second one starts when you realize you only have one. ”

    Mario de Andrade

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow. I wish Mario luck in fulfilling those wishes…and I understand and even sympathize with the urges expressed, though I find when I over-indulge in sweets, they grow less appealing, and when I try to find “those people”


    2. …well, that got sent before I reached my stunning conclusion…I struggle to bloom where I’m planted, love the unlovable, and curl around the days I have left. I do share the wish to end at peace with loved ones and myself…. Thanks for the thoughtful post… :).


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