change

everything was too clear, too much alive. all she felt was the grasp of one hand upon the other, the strain of her arms clasping her knees, the pull of the wind on her clothes. Inside she was blank, empty; she had spilled all those emotions out like a glass carelessly knocked to the side, where nothing was there to catch her or feel the impact of her heavy insides except the cold careless ground. Now she stood staring sightlessly at the wood around her. Had she been absorbing, seeing at all, she would have appreciated the rise and fall of the forest, of the earth; the birds that soared and dived through the clear sky; the soft rustle of air and leaves together intertwined in a gentle dance.

a strong gust pushed her hair around her face, and she moved her hands up and brushed her eyes clear. A sigh escaped her lips, and she pursed them together in defiance. I am not yet ready to come back to life. She sat, wrestling with her thoughts, trying to keep the inevitable return to full consciousness at bay. So what now? What now? she wondered, and, suddenly feeling self-conscious, looked around before muttering the words aloud. She was almost disappointed when neither the trees nor the birds nor some unseeable presence provided any answer. Who knows, who knows, she cried, life is unknowable, and no one can say that they- and her voice broke, her head sagged, and her heart suddenly felt very empty again. No one can say that they know it, or even understand in the slightest what it is all about, she finished, whispering and holding herself tight, as if she might fall apart were she to let go.

I always thought there might be some good, she thought, and stopped again, feeling slightly poetic, disgusted. She shook her head and raised her face to the sky. Seeing the birds, following their circles and falls. Following one leader, then another, diving and soaring as one, flitting together, calling out as comrades, if not friends or lovers. She jumped to her feet, forgetful of her previous fragility, and shouted aloud: The birds! The birds! I will ask the birds for my forgiveness, and they will forgive me for everything, and it will all go back to being how it was before! Struck by the revelation, she stood rooted. Waiting for inspiration, waiting for the words to come, for the birds to nod and chirp and forgive. Nothing came simply, so she forced out: I'm sorry, I'm sorry for... for what? And she stood, awestruck again, realizing that she had no reason to be forgiven because she had done no wrong.

Sometimes... sometimes life will reveal itself to you, right? she asked the birds, a small mournful smile playing her lips. As if life were something living, something wholly apart from myself, someone else entirely! And her smile broadened, became true, and she took one long last look to carry with her before turning and walking away.