"Going Up?"

Why is this connection to God so tenuous? Why is it like a greased rope, bearing frayed ends with this riddle of which is actually connected, and which is but a teasing frolic amongst the stuff that heaven is not made of?

What is the purpose of these relationships? The first one who said, “If you ever leave, there will be no reason for my life to continue. I will end it.” That one who said such loving things with its lips, and committed such horrors with other parts of itself? That one you recognized as toxic to you and the offspring that you produced together.

What of that one who held the knife to it’s belly, threatening – “I will die if you leave! I will cut it all away!” Again, you gathered your babes around you, the older and the newer, and fled.

Yet another soul bound you for a decade and declared, “You are the giver of life to me. My heart will cease if you go.” That heart still beats and you gone a decade hence. Where was this need of you?

Remember that one who stood underneath your windows in the night, calling out in that forlorn fashion: “DEENNEEEENNNN!! DEENNEEEENNNN!! I need you, Deneen!” One restraining order later – and your ears were cleansed of that sound.

How is one to make sense of the one who said, “Go away! I never wanted you!” yet cries for you still?

Contemplate that one before now who said, “I want to come home!” You stood your ground and answered, “Many things would have to change. I can’t just let you come home.” Now, that one is dead.

Why do I yet mourn for that one?

Why do I ache for that one who says, “The kiss and the blood in my mouth was the most intensely sensual experience of my life!”

Why does my mind flood with memories of other long, loving legs wrapped around me, the sweet joining of the very souls of those thrust into me?

Where are those healthy ones? How does one contain those spirits given in a loving and freeing manner? Who exchanged with you that precious energy of self that dwells, still, within you, even as you continue to dwell within them?

I have lived, oh! How I have lived! And I have died – Oh, how I have died! I have lived in the agony and I have died in the ecstasy time and time and time again. Can I bear more living?

And why this one? Why when I look into the eyes of this one and it says, “I am dying inside”, why is it that I am unable to leave it? Does that make this one the “right” one, or does it only make me more merciful?

Have I grown more sensitive, so, more self-destructive – or closer to Godhood in that I would rather die, myself, than cause pain in the soul of another?

Am I a saint…or an imbecile?