Tuesday, 27 March 2012

woman in glass - reprise

She stands in the darkness, pretending not to see me. Always looking out of the corner of her eye. Always there, always mocking.

She raises a hand to her cheek, as I do, she speaks when I speak, but I can't hear her. Somedays I listen so hard, so hard, to the silence.

She must have a purpose, a reason for being there?! A reason to stand each day, in the darkness. Why does she mock me at my window? No life in her eyes, just staring, always staring, into mine.

I stand away from the window, but I feel her, the weight of her gaze. I know she wants me to look over, but I won't. I will not give in to her. Every day we play this game; I move around the house, she follows me, at each window. No useful occupation of her own. Her presence is eerie, always I know she is there. Why the fascination with me?! Why must she linger so?! I have nothing to give her, my world is empty.

I push my hair from my face, and risk a glance over, and there she is! Hand in her hair! Same style as mine, her eyes, cold, and dead; her face expressionless. Her eyes hold me, locked into her gaze; and suddenly its clear - I understand now the months of the chase were to get me here, to hold my attention, but for why? What use is this looking?!

I move towards the window, she moves toward me, and I cry out "Why?!? Why do you follow me, why do you want me here?! What have I but nothing?!", as usual, she doesn't answer. I'm met with the mocking of my questions; opening and closing her mouth as I speak, no response. Infuriating! Her face now filled with anger, I have upset her with my questions, like I should know! She raises a hand to the window and bangs the glass, desperation in her face, and I see! All this while it was her that was trapped, not her trapping me!! I raise my hand to bang, bang, bang at the glass with her, we need to break out, to set us free!

In a wild fury, I grab a wooden chopping board and start pounding at the window, pounding hard until I feel it crack - soon it splinters, and shatters; a million tiny sparkles. Glass and blood scatter across the floor, I collapse in a heap, breathing heavily, relieved that it is finally over. I look at my hands, my arms; cut to tatters and bleeding, bleeding a warm red river of relief.

I pick up a piece of the broken window, and see her, still staring back at me, full of sadness. I plunge her into my heart. Now it's over.

No comments:

Post a Comment