Ayanna A. Chapter Two
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
is working on some words to say to Sand. Yes, Sand. Hmmph!
05 February at 15:34
In response to this FB post, I wrote the following:
Sand, you are Victorious.
To you, I concede.
Wear your crown, Honorable Sir, your gritty, dusty crown!
You are everywhere, you omniscient conqueror. You are on my bed, in my butter; you languish upon the shiny skins of apples, pears and plums. You cloak every green leaf of potted foliage at my windows and you linger on the air, in your finest dust-like form, creating a haze that hangs heavy in my home. Oh, wretched Sand!
And the fool that I am, I waged war against you, Sand. I marched towards you…ON you, armed with battle weapons, brooms and mops, furniture polish and dust cloths, promising your defeat, you insidious foe! With eyes set, back bent, poised on haunches, locked in combat with you. Elbows, arms moving as pistons, back and forth, back and forth, fighting fiercely against you, to repel you…out, off, up, from countertops, coffee tables, curtains, corners, crevices, all.
Yet you stand, Sand, as an ancient General of the desert. You troop over this land, toppling all you survey. You exist only with Sun and Wind here, Sand, and you reign supreme above these, your pawns. You have commanded Sun to dry and splinter you into smaller, yet smaller particles, extracting any trace of Water which might hold you, make you heavy, make you rest, render you less elusive, less invasive. You have cajoled Mountain, once composed of Rock, to crumble, crack, crust over into you, and become Dune, mighty, majestic dunes of you, oh narcissistic Sand! And Wind, it too has become your minion. It carries you throughout the expanse of this land on it’s wings, into doorways and windows, into eyes and open mouths, even as they gaze upon you and speak unwittingly of your dazzling array of colors; your red ochre, your bone white and your sandy brown, knowing not that as they sing your glorious praises, you simultaneously invade their internal caverns, conquering new foreign territories yet, ever-vigilant Sand!
So, why then not my living room, too?
Sand, you are Victorious.
Have your way with my home...do as you will! The Pledge-soaked, lemon-scented, white dust cloth that was once used to repel you from surfaces is now a limp flag of surrender. Don’t you see it wave, Sand?
To you, I concede, Sand.
Today, I surrender. I lay down my weapons, my mop, broom and all. I stand up, straighten my back and raise my eyes to the sky to remind myself that this glorious blue is one expanse you have yet to broach. Oh yes, Sand, you too have limitations! But today,
…it is finished. I have no fight left for you, Sand. Today, you have rendered this foe utterly defeated.
I think I’ll just go take a nap.
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