THE BURDEN
By Vêra Chase
eavy.
For love's sake, why is it so heavy?
The child clutches to my chest impossible to remove. Arms knotted tightly
around my neck, it does not smile or frown, only whines whenever I have a
thought of myself, no matter how brief.
It stays with me. All the time. Every second. I have it right in front of
my eyes: A large head, as if made of wax; cheeks drawn in red pencil-what else
could explain that unnatural blush?-and eyes... those EYES!... like glass cat's
eyes, glass marbles! However compelling may my urges be to go back and find my
friends, I am not allowed to care for them: its anger terrifies me. I MUST
accommodate its will. Its wishes. Its whims... (yes, whims-nothing in the world
can make me believe in his innocent ignorance!).
The child. The child... I am tired. Exhausted. Vacantly, I roam around
the edges of the pit. What to do with it? I was the one to bear it, I am the one
who will have nursed it, the one to carry and care for it. But I, where have I
become lost? It has been hanging on me continuously since its birth; oppressing
me; tormenting me...
It!
If it would let go for just the blink of an eye, then I could rest a bit,
the shortest bit. Perhaps to have a swim... OH, TO HAVE A SWIM!
Down in the cone-shaped pit I sense a small pool. The land is waste and
now, at night, also perfectly blind; I cannot see, only anticipate. My desire
for a dip has grown so potent that if there hadn't been a lake so long, now
there must surely be one; and if not a lake, then certainly a puddle.
I am carefully descending (the slope of the pit is rather steep). My shoe
crushes pebbles and stones; the ground gives way, sliding. Care-ful-ly.
There, this must be the edge now. So I was right: although the sky is
dark and the surface throws no reflection, I can almost see it-for the darkness
strangely drops around the pit's belly creating an opaque oval. Since I can
better perceive than see it, its depth remains a secret. Using my free foot I
take off my shoe to test the water. It's lukewarm. With difficulty, I bend over
to take off the other shoe and my skirt. Not the blouse, though. It is stuck to
me with sweat like an old skin. I have not taken it off since the birth due to
the child's tight cling making it impossible.
Slowly I enter the dark liquid-it feels so dense! The sides keep on
dropping steeply toward the bottom in the same sharp angle. I slide myself in
and lose my body under the surface as it closes in over me.
I am waiting… waiting for my feet to touch the bottom. The pool is
deep, though. It whines and pulls my hair. It bites. It scratches. Bundles of
hair rise to the surface.
Finally, the bottom. I spring off it and like a hunch-back pike angle for
the surface.
Oooh!-I am taking the deepest breath, appreciative of every little
particle of the welcome inhalation. The first stroke, the second... with each I
feel lighter and lighter. With the sixth one, free!
Freedom. A callous piece sinks to the bottom… a piece of my body.
© Copyright, Vêra Chase.
?91, 5/98, 8/98
All Rights Reserved.
