The summer sun has been up for a good five hours now. Its shine blazes my scalp, stirs up memories inside me that would be better left forgotten. What has happened to me?
There is next to nothing here. But the barren landscape soothes me, reminds me of what I truly am. A lone bird soars through the insipid sky, circling with its inherent grace. It seems to me that he flies with disdain for all below him, for me. He might as well. I can count by the fingers of one hand the number of beings who have shown me some respect, fewer so have shown me love. But one who had was now standing in front of me in tears asking me a question no child should ever have to ask.
‘Why do you hate me?’
Neither denying or acknowledging, I set about the telling of my story, hoping that my actions were finally made clear to him.
Circa 2005; edited January 2012
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