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Between Lust for Love and Love 10a

The Courtroom

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 hammer.

“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 offer.

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 them.

The Defendant tenderly holds my hand, and I notice then that my hand is closed up tight. “Open your handloved 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 dewits 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.


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