Painting Clouds on a Sunny Day

I know what I should feel,

I know it, I have seen it.

But I don't feel it. 

It is not like I do not ache,

I do, but it is an ephemeral pain.

I can hear the end of my ache.

It should be a silent end.

I should feel this until I cannot take it anymore,

It should linger in me, always with me.

Clouding my everything and slowly,

 after a sudden thunderstorm on a hot day, 

the clouds should melt and fade

and make way for blue skies 

tinged with white flecks.

Flecks never to fade but to remain,

 constant.

But there seem to be no clouds or flecks.

But regrets. Perhaps guilt about an early acceptance.

Why?

Surely, I could not have prevented it.

I should have painted a feeling, a mutual connection, 

a blue sky filled with puffy clouds which never fade 

- not even to flecks.

Stop!

Now I shiver.

I want to hide my portraits.

I do not want it.

I do not want to lose my skies.

Am I selfishly content? Afraid to lose what is not lost?

I really cannot think this way.

Please, stop!

Affirm life - Paint the pictures you can now.

There will be beauty in giving.

Enjoy the cloud-filled skies.

Do not wait for a sunny day.

The Village

Once upon a time, there was a small fishing village that was greatly blessed by the gods. The gods granted them a bountiful harvest and instructed the Chief Priest to share it evenly within the village.

The Chief Priest divided the harvest into two halves and kept one half as his own. The Big Man offered gifts of virgins to the Priest and for this, was given a quarter of the other half. The Fat Woman presented the freshest fish and sweetest spices to the Priest and she received a generous piece of the harvest. The Rich Man donated gems, diamonds, jewels and pearls and the Chief Priest supplied him with a share of the plentiful produce. The Black Man and White Woman submitted offerings of white knives and black magic which were to be used to control the village. The Chief Priest accepted their presents and repaid them with the remaining quarter of the plentiful harvest. The Wicked Woman, who instilled order within the village, was rewarded by the Priest with half of his pilfered share.

There was no more food left for the simple villagers so the small men shrunk smaller, the hungry women became hungrier, the poor men got poorer and the strong youth turned weak.

The Good Man heard of this injustice and warned the Chief Priest that he would inform the gods of his wrongdoing. He threatened to go to the Land of Black and White to expose the cheating Chief and announce how he continued to starve the neighbouring fishing village. The Chief Priest heard this and notified the Big Man, who apprised the Fat Woman, who told the Rich man, and who, finally, alerted the Wicked Woman.

The Wicked Woman, upon hearing this, called for a village meeting. She deceived all those present and told them that the Good Man threatened to kill the Chief Priest with wisdom from the Land of Black and White, which would bring the wrath of the gods upon their community. The dwellers began to worry and the strong youth grew angry. The angry youth dragged the Good Man – the Doomed Man – to the village square where the Chief Priest offered him to the gods for supposed forgiveness. The citizens agreed with the Priest, and sang, and danced, and prayed to the gods to strike the Good Man and spare their village.

The poor men knew that the accusations against the Good Man were untrue but fear held them silent. They understood that if they proclaimed the integrity of the Good Man, their wives would be snatched by the Rich Man. So they lifted their voices and sang louder. The hungry women saw the wickedness and lies against the Good Man but they closed their eyes. They realised that if they proved the innocence of the now Doomed Man, their children would be seized and eaten by the Fat Woman. So they raised their feet and danced longer. The small men were aware of the evil rife in the village but refused to shout out. They recognized that if they revealed the Chief Priest’s corruption, their houses would be coveted by the Big Man. So they bowed their heads and prayed even more earnestly.

And so the citizens watched – singing and dancing and praying – as the Wicked Woman killed the Good Man and presented his head to the gods. The Land of Black and White soon discovered this murder and called its people, the White Woman and Black Man, home. They took some of their knives, magic and their ill-gotten portion of the villages’ harvest with them. The strong youth continued to grow frail and so used the knives and magic left behind to steal from the hungry, poor and small villagers.

Without the interference of the Good Man; the Big Man, Fat Woman, Rich Man, Wicked Woman and Chief Priest continued to share the villages’ wealth between themselves. The rich got richer and the poor got poorer. The big grew bigger and the small shrunk smaller. The fat stretched fatter and the hungry became hungrier.

Who can save the village now?