The Cove

His hand rises to shield his eyes
Like a newborn child, he strains to see
The sun so bright
The warmth so strong on his face
His eyes cannot hold; they close
He looks away
He wants to go back to sleep
He doesn’t dream
He doesn’t know how he got there
He just knows rest
Yet something out there beckons
“There’s more than this”
The sun is still uncomfortably warm
Closing his eyes won’t escape that
He sits his body up
Looks toward the ground
His legs resting gently upon it
He looks up and squints
Not a thought in his mind
He stares for a while
Not wanting to look away
Then drops his head again
Eyes closed
“Where am I?”
This newborn’s first thought
“I’m alive…”
He opens his eyes
Moves his hand to his vision, palm up
Stares
“This is a hand”, his body tells him
“This is you.”
The hand slowly begins to close
The fingers relaxing
He sets it down on his leg
To his left he looks
Nothing but bright, bright terrain
His head pivots to the right
He squints
All the same
This newborn child
Lost again
He closes his eyes
Takes a deep breath
Exhales
“I’m here again”
He begins to feel tired
The heat helps him fade away
His body slumps forward
Rest

I have a habit of living in the past – I go through memories in my head over and over again. Both good and bad. It’s how I cope – if there’s a bad memory, I relive it until it no longer bothers me or I grow numb to it. If it’s a pleasant memory, I take all I can from it. I enjoy it. Lately (at this time, Aug 2008), I’ve been thinking more of the future. But I still have that certain habit that I just can’t seem to break. (more…)