the umbrella
entry no. 8 ⸻ the palm's press of grief
A hand large enough to squish my body. I looked up; it was coming down from above.
Just twenty minutes prior, the sun had finally emerged from its winter slumber, the sky's painter had just splashed cerulean upon his canvas. I didn't feel the weather. That was the best part. I could turn my face up and all I would feel was a bit of warmth tucked between the breeze. It was just twenty minutes prior. I saw a bee land on the petal of a flower. Seeking nectar within this beautiful object. Or creature rather. The bee was far too close to see the flower's beauty. Its hunger stripped the bee of its ability to recognize it. It was a shame. But still through its selfish ways, the bee fed the next flower it landed upon. The bee and flower were both fed. A selfish sustaining loop.
I'm famished. I had thought to myself. Just twenty minutes prior.
I have the desire to recognize beauty as it comes to me. Is it possible to see beauty, in all of its intricacies and vastness, without having to step back from it?
There are no keepers of time. Twenty minutes prior, that time was not mine. A glass curved figure. Could it be? Perhaps I was wrong. But the hourglass that stood before me evaporated. Where did it go? I swear it was just right there! The grains of sand spilled and spread every which way. What a mess I found myself in. What a mess. In that moment, minutes ceased to exist. The concept of time was removed from our world. One is or one isn't. That was all that could be. There is no age. There is no birth or death. Those are the things we made up.
The hand was coming down: I was petrified. Has anyone ever anticipated such a thing before? This illusory fairy-like hand coming down from above, just for me. It moved slowly, but even without looking, I felt its movement. I sensed the air shifting, ever so slightly, around me. Its velocity was unpredictable. At what moment would this hand and I meet? The thought briefly crossed my mind, but I flitted it away. It still amazes me how easily I ignored the presence of something that existed right before me. Right before me. I stood beneath the hand's shade. I couldn't see the sun anymore. Though I saw it in the distance. Everyone around me seemed to be basking in it. But no, not me. A chill coursed through my body. Oh of course, not me.
The hand seized to move, but the grey still surrounded me. I took a seat. I stared up at this palm and observed the creases in its skin: the headline, the heartline, the lifeline, the sunline. Oh, and one must not forget the fateline. Narrow and broken in places. I could barely make out the faint wrinkle: the line that split the hand into two vertical halves.
I was beginning to tire. It had been a long day. My muscles had been tensing. Even prior to twenty minutes prior. The hand was not present then, but I somehow knew it was coming. Cosmically, or what have you. The desaturated air around me mimicked the back of my eyelids. I started to doze. By then I was lying down, the hand still hovering just above me, on the ground. Maybe it will stay like this forever. Perhaps this is not so bad. Oh, but it was a bad thing. It was bad in the sense that it was not good.
Then, I fell asleep.
--
I awoke to an excruciating pain. I opened my eyes, but all I could see was darkness. It must have happened! The hand! I am still not sure how long I had been asleep.
Pressure surrounded my entire body. My bones were intact, though for a second I could have sworn my entire skeleton had been disassembled, as good as dust. I managed to push the hand up just enough to where I could sit with my knees to my chest, curled up in a ball. It hurt so much to move. I cannot put into words the kind of pain I felt. I could only tell you what had happened. If you haven't felt the hand, you wouldn't know. But the hand finds everyone, eventually.
And then I realized: I was enclosed within this darkness. I was enclosed within this darkness, and the only person who could push this hand up and off of me was me. For I was the only one that sat beneath the brutal weight of this giant hand.
I sat there, unmoving, utterly defeated. I stayed like this for some time. I noticed my bones started to ache a bit less. But there was still no sign of light. I remained in the same position: sat in a ball, with my knees held close, staring at the ground. Of course, I could have been staring at anything, or I could have even had my eyes closed. It would have been all the same. So let's just say, my gaze ended where I assumed the ground was.
I started to doze. My circadian rhythm adjusted to this seemingly perpetual change in light. My eyes batted shut. I began to enter a liminal space. And then, a stroke of red flashed behind my right eyelid. I opened my eyes but to no avail. All had returned to the clean slate of darkness. I kept my eyes open, refraining from blinking even, in hopes that I would catch what I thought I could have seen. Something other than red or black, please. Please.
And that's when it happened. What was once a view of black upon black was split by a strip of gold. I looked up. The tight grip of the hand began to loosen. A space between the hand's trunk-like fingers started to make way. What was once one streak turned into many. I hadn't realized how cold I had been until I felt the warmth of the gold once again. I was exhausted from the shivering. I only felt the exhaustion until I had finally stopped. I am warm! Oh my god, I am warm.
Thank you very much for reading. A little bit different from what I typically share on here, but hope you enjoyed nonetheless.
Much love!
Kailie