Never a Time

01/12/2014 § 5 Comments

For the last six months, I’ve been writing the words, *There was never a time*– just that — on napkins and notepage headers. I tried and tried but couldnt get the words out. Yesterday morning the words came out. Ursula K.Le Guin calls this effect the bung-puller, like a cork that won’t come out from the bottle and until it finally bursts out explosively spewing wet fizzy all over the place.

There never was a time it could have been prevented.
There never was a time you could have changed your fate.
She acted mechanically. She lived as if her path were cast in iron.
Only once long ago did she make all her choices.
Before you ever arrived:

— never to forgive God, Fate, her Father or Mother,
where choosing not to forgive meant choosing to hate.
If there ever was a time you needed protection,
it was right then, before you were even conceived, just
as the Death Camps were opened and discharging.
There was no one to guide any of us then.
She chose
to hide her choices.
never needing to justify what no one could see.
She was a lie nobody knew.

But you were in her way,
with your baby’s charm and keen intelligence.
Your instinct to trust kept her secrets for her.
It would be half a lifetime before you would recognize her choices.
You twisted and turned like a tail-chasing dog.
looking for the thing that was wrong.
But it was always in your blindspot,
whichever way you turned.
There never was a time that you could have changed
the thing you couldn’t see;
and she was forsworn to die before yielding it.
Great love might melt her drama,
but you were always in too much danger to give that to her;
you’re in danger still.
Finally you understood that to love her you must leave her,
which you did in small steps but never enough.
Your very presence emboldened her strikes against you.
You couldn’t answer your giant isolation
which was shared so completely with hers that she nourished and fed it for both of you. .
So you cut yourself free,
exposing your self to the hatred of kin.
This is how to refine a soul,
shattering your heart to reconstruct it a dozen times larger;
large enough to endure poisoned cherishing,
and tender enough
in time
to bloom.

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