Pillars of Salt Winter 2014

Images

An image of what I once was lies in empty picture frames, the ones that lined the plywood walls of my uncle’s house. The old building is ghostly now, the negative of a colorful photo, long since stained brown. It was bright once, a sea of lights and music all mixed in together. But things stay lost when there’s no one to find them, and memories become jumbled in the mind.

I was there all the time. Watching my uncle sing along to songs banged out on an old, un-tuned piano. It was that music that filled the void forming around me, but now I find these memories just make the emptiness worse.

I sat by my uncle a few hours before he had to leave. He whispered quietly in my ear, so none of my other relatives could hear, saying he would see me again. I knew he was lying. Later I remember the man in the expensive suit reading my uncle’s letter quietly. There was a note just for me. Tucked away safely in a paper shield. I fiddled with the paper, the grains making my fingertips numb.

---- I’m broken now. Standing alone on this dirt path lulled to destruction by time. Demolished by something that hasn’t been seen for thousands of years. There’s nothing now, save the small bit of dying brown grass still left and the unmoving air that stalls around me like an unsaid word on a hot summer day.

I look up from my map, a colorful array of illegible lines. There’s supposed to be a metal pole here, a small sign of civilization in this expanse of desert. Then I see it, far away, distorted and almost hidden by the breath of heat.

And I’m running now, my bag bouncing hard on my back, the key chains chiming with every step. And I know I’m moving toward it–but it still seems so far away.

There’s a small bench here. Nothing to cover me from the sun, but it’s something. I sit and wait in this endless hole, this endless silence that is cruel 46 Pillars of Salt