The Judge taps his papers quickly on the table.
He shrugs in his speechlessness and then stands
for his final statement, signaling out with his
“Well as it appears, and I think we can agree,
there stands no argument against Enmity strong
enough to convict his ways.” The Judge gives me
a sympathetic look than begins to gather his
papers in preparation to exit the room.
I remain seated for a moment, desperately
looking for just one member of the crowd to
care. I stare off into the distance too stunned
to move. All is silent…the air is still. All
hope that I ever saw before has now left.
I begin to rise to return to my persistently
cold reality, dreading its lonely lulls. As I
stand the scent of roses fill the air. Sunlight
begins to bathe my face as the walls of the
courtroom fade away, a flowery meadow remaining.
I can feel soft grass under my feet, like
childhood dreams remembered. The crowd comes to
a halt and gathers slowly to watch as I raise my
head to see the approaching figure in white; the
Defendant is not yet done.
All is silent by this point, as
no one knows what to expect.
The Defendant looks into my eyes, his gaze
unmoved and full of truth as he quietly holds
out his hand for me to take. I stand, unsure
what to make of this, unsure what to trust…but
something deep inside me stirs to accept his
I reach desperately for his hand and he pulls me
gently forward. The silence is even thicker now
than moments before, as the audience waits in
focused anticipation of what is occurring before
The Defendant tenderly holds my hand, and I
notice then that my hand is closed up tight.
“Open your hand, loved
one.” He whispers. He waits quietly in
stillness, a soft smile on his face as he
speaks. The cool meadow breeze blows gently
across his face, his smile soft and warm to see.
After some hesitance, I slowly open my hand.
Sweat glistens from where I had squeezed it
tight for so long holding on to the emptiness
inside. He takes a rose and places it in my open
palm. It is covered with the freshest dew, its
petals soft and white, clean and alive.
I pull the rose towards me and breathe in deeply
as I continue to watch the gentle face through
the petals view.
In that moment, I long to be beautiful like the
rose in my hand. I long to be cherished; to be
covered with the sun, to wake up with dew on my
eyelashes and with life in my lungs. My heart
ached deeply inside of me.
“But how filthy you are.” comes the familiar
voice “How dirty and repulsive you have become,
look at you! You will never be fit for this,
maybe another who is better but not you.” the
voice scoffs. I trace the soft petals as not to
damage them, guarding them from the dark
wreckage of my heart.