Forging, Maria Gelbert

Forging

i need you to understand, i need you to understand listen to me listen, listen, i cannot be alone here please please don’t leave me here alone.

look at the ocean. look at the constant ebb. look at the foam dry on the sand. look at the waves cling to the shore tighter and tighter even as they are dragged back to the sea, returning only to leave once more. you’re at the beach. smile, wave, sit down for a while. relax, you look tired. just look at the light on the water, look at it sway back and forth, and look at you, lying on crushed rocks, crushed mountains, the once-proud cliff faces made small. there is a beating like a heart, a steady tattoo drilling the same ba-DUM-dumba-DUM-dum into the earth and it seeps into your skin. you look to your left and you see your friend no not your friend, your brother, he who shares your blood. or maybe you are friends, you’re not sure, but he’s there and for some reason that means now you have permission to breathe. he grabs your hand and drags you to the shore to the edge of the water where the sand scrunches between your toes and he falls into the water and pulls you down with him. he’s laughing, you’re laughing, it’s still funny but now your feet can’t reach the floor and he’s still falling and he’s still dragging you down with him and this isn’t peaceful isn’t calm and your lungs are filling with salt and—

believe me, believe me but you already do, don’t you? you don’t think that i am lying, you never do, never, never. why is that, why do you always believe me? when do i start to lose your trust finally, finally, when can i lose sight of this open wound? this trust, this vulnerability that you are showing me, i don’t want it, i don’t want it but you keep forcing me to look, shoving your faith into my hands, forcing my fingers tight around it when i don’t want to hold on, why do you keep giving me this, why do you keep forcing me to hold on? don’t you understand that i cannot?

the wind is roaring and when you look down, the sea is churning and groan-

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ing and breaking on the rocks below. you’re on a cliff by the sea, different sea, and you can’t hear anything beyond the roar of your blood pumping through your veins. the clouds are congregating, preparing for war and the sea is calling for blood and never mind the hammers in the background, please, pay no attention to the flying sparks they’re only fireworks after all. didn’t i tell you, it’s the fourth of july. this heat is from the explosions in the sky, nothing else, no, nothing else. ignore the flames and the grease and smoke, and just watch the lights in the sky. there is a pressure constricting your body and you can feel your bones shaking feel them trying to get out get out of this skin which holds you too tightly too closely and the breath is leaving your lungs, no not leaving escaping, fleeing, it’s getting the hell out of dodge and if only you could follow. your mother grabs you by the arm and whirls you around, whirls you away and your feet aren’t finding the ground. she’s making noises, making words, apologies for something and you tell her it’s fine it’s fine and she’s beaming she’s trying to outshine the fireworks still wrestling in the sky but her eyes are too tired and there are too many lines on her face for that. her hands are shaking and you have forgotten why. she puts her hand on your cheek and it stays there hot on your flesh, locking you into your skin. her hand rests on your cheek and you’re trapped.

try not to put yourself here. this is not your life. you’re on the other side of the glass, don’t forget that, that’s important.

you step back. your mother smiles again, tightly this time, her features locked down and she steps back too, turns, and you’re left with the fireworks blooming under the war-clouds, whirling in and out of sight as the storm looms closer and a vacancy between your ribs that makes you feel like you will

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snap and you will you will and the pressure is still there still throttling you and your throat is closing again and oh can’t you just go back to your mother smiling with the forgiveness you granted her can’t you go back to then? another firework blossoms in the sky, briefly illuminating the sea below before being consumed by the storm. boom.

when do you stop believing me? i’m your guide aren’t i, i’m showing you this world but what you don’t understand, what you never understand is that you are chained to me. you cannot leave and take this story to the distant hills for even if you do take this world from me it is still mine in every stone, every blade of grass, every cell i will breathe here because when you followed me here you saw only what i let you see. you know nothing else of this world, you don’t even know if i’ve been telling the truth but does that matter, does the veracity of this world matter if you do not know it is a lie? it doesn’t. not until you discover it isn’t truth because then the frailty of this world is revealed, the frailty of truth, of belief, and god you’re so easy to fool, so easy to lie to, when will you stop believing me? but until you know i’m lying, it doesn’t matter. the lie is your truth until i give you reason to doubt and where does that reason come from?

why do you keep believing me? what does it take to get you to stop?

there are threads here, silken threads, fraying ropes, cords tying this together, i promise you there is a reason for this, but what if there wasn’t? what if there was no truth hiding underneath, what if you pulled back the curtain and saw nothing but a dusty chair and cobwebs and spiders, and spiders spinning silken lies, spinning silk for a curtain that hides the great truth that there is nothing hiding behind the curtain, there is no silly man in a top hat, there is no magic trick. there is nothing behind the curtain. the curtain exists only to create the idea that there is something behind it.

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but what happens after you look?

here is the moon. look at it shining, look at your face reflected in the glass. hello there. the moon isn’t here. i was lying. there is no moon. but what do you do now? it’s already night time in your head but here i am, telling you again that there is no moon outside, it’s noontide, it’s summer, it’s one hundred degrees and people are jostling you in the street and why are you standing there looking at the glass? does your reflection have something to say?

i’m growing weary. i cannot will not do not wish to continue creating—i am standing here, in the forge of your mind but who is standing in mine? can’t you see that i am kind, showing my face, revealing the truths of this world, your world, the world i have made for you, but where is my creator where are the others why am i the only one alone? let me see your face please please don’t leave me here alone.

Maria Gelbert ’15

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