Sunday, February 3, 2008

"Now remember, leave those

boulders right where they are", he said.
I looked at the huge, convoluted field
in bewilderment, taking note
of the profusion of rocks strewn about,
some jagged,
others smoothed by erosion, some imposingly large,
others minor and seemingly unimportant.
My guide seemed older and yet unsettlingly
familiar, with deep lines on his face and hair
gone almost completely grey.
All traces of the boy he once was
had been eradicated, like the streets
of prewar Hiroshima.
We trudged onward, the shadows
alternately lengthening and disappearing
as an uncertain sun danced erratically.
I bumped into a medium sized-boulder and,
being irritated by its presumption at being in
my path, shoved it aside without a second thought.
Suddenly, a geyser of scalding water erupted from
under it. The horrible stream was already dropping
searing mist on me, making me cry out in fear of
the hell that was ready to fall on me full force.
Just as I was about to be boiled,
my guide, furious, willed the
stone back into place and pulled me,
with a head-snapping lurch,
out of harm's way.
Abashed, I could hardly look at the
old man. He simply glared
with a look like a clenched fist, and said,
"When are you going to believe me?"
We continued our wandering through
the prehistoric landscape, and I seethed
in my shame,
my helplessness,
my ignorance, and
my curiosity about the boulders
as yet unsighted.

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