Chronos, Be Still
Krystyna Laramie
I’d spend all of my days roaming the woods with the dogs, if I could. Barefoot, wild, and purely instinctual. We would hunt and run and howl through the long days. At night, I would curl up with the pack on the forest floor. And while my body would be rough and often cold, my heart never would be. Living with the wolves might alleviate some of this sadness.
I have no use for sadness. My stores never run low, and the supply never rots. It never festers, deteriorates or diminishes. It fills the pantry from wall to wall and I have no way to be rid of it. And all the while, I acquire more. I am running out of attic space.
When the sadness builds to be an unbearable burden, I would give away my soul to disappear into the darkened night of the bluest hallow moon you’ve ever seen. Float upon the arctic chilled wind through the thin, emerald pines as they bend and moan in the quickening wind and falling snow.
I’d bring you along, too. We could bathe within the starlight. And you could turn your quiet face toward the radiant diamonds and sparkling heavens that shimmer above your warm, tired head. We could follow the forest’s path to the bed of the wolves and see the beauty of the creatures, curled in their den—living among the rich smell of healthy dirt, breathing in deep sleep with her pups softly pawing, softly murmuring. We could be the wind at night, be the moonlight as it falls, fly the currents over the dark pines and pups, fly over the entirety of the wood until we understand the darkness, until we understand the beauty of the natural world.
But you didn’t stay. You didn’t see things the way I did. You left before I finished what I had to say. And suddenly, there was a moment when all of my words felt like they were tingling, like they meant so much more than they ever had. I could feel my words travel through my body, through my brain and back, in my ears as if they had been spoken aloud. I wanted to slam my head against the earth, to crush your letters between my fingers. I wanted to scream and let the florescent phosphorescence glow around me in the still and quiet, low and listening air. But you were already gone.
Once, you were low like me. You loved me when we were low together. But now you’re soaring the sky while I’m lying at the bottom of a gravel pit. You’re loving the wind and leaving me behind.
I have no use for falsity and fair weather.
But I always knew this was coming, and I don’t mind. I can feel the truth, if I try. Can you feel it too? The vibration between the cells of your ever flowing, ever pumping, ever loving blood-- Does it mean something to you, or do you do your best to ignore it?
You always said; “You can change what you see. You can change how all of them see. It can start on the back of your tongue. It can start as a hum between your clenched teeth. It can start with one thick slash of ink on a white sheet of parchment. You can change who you are, what you want, what you’ll be.”
It never was, and never is that easy.
More than anything, I dwell on the idea of stopping time. In a place where the sun is warm. Where I can lay in the long yellow grass and feel the heartbeat of the earth beneath my shoulder blades. Where the air passes through you and the sun feels like love. The rain can clean your every sadness. A place where I can breathe and listen to the song birds chirping in the budding trees. And in that moment, stop. And in that moment, stay.
I have no use for sadness. My stores never run low, and the supply never rots. It never festers, deteriorates or diminishes. It fills the pantry from wall to wall and I have no way to be rid of it. And all the while, I acquire more. I am running out of attic space.
When the sadness builds to be an unbearable burden, I would give away my soul to disappear into the darkened night of the bluest hallow moon you’ve ever seen. Float upon the arctic chilled wind through the thin, emerald pines as they bend and moan in the quickening wind and falling snow.
I’d bring you along, too. We could bathe within the starlight. And you could turn your quiet face toward the radiant diamonds and sparkling heavens that shimmer above your warm, tired head. We could follow the forest’s path to the bed of the wolves and see the beauty of the creatures, curled in their den—living among the rich smell of healthy dirt, breathing in deep sleep with her pups softly pawing, softly murmuring. We could be the wind at night, be the moonlight as it falls, fly the currents over the dark pines and pups, fly over the entirety of the wood until we understand the darkness, until we understand the beauty of the natural world.
But you didn’t stay. You didn’t see things the way I did. You left before I finished what I had to say. And suddenly, there was a moment when all of my words felt like they were tingling, like they meant so much more than they ever had. I could feel my words travel through my body, through my brain and back, in my ears as if they had been spoken aloud. I wanted to slam my head against the earth, to crush your letters between my fingers. I wanted to scream and let the florescent phosphorescence glow around me in the still and quiet, low and listening air. But you were already gone.
Once, you were low like me. You loved me when we were low together. But now you’re soaring the sky while I’m lying at the bottom of a gravel pit. You’re loving the wind and leaving me behind.
I have no use for falsity and fair weather.
But I always knew this was coming, and I don’t mind. I can feel the truth, if I try. Can you feel it too? The vibration between the cells of your ever flowing, ever pumping, ever loving blood-- Does it mean something to you, or do you do your best to ignore it?
You always said; “You can change what you see. You can change how all of them see. It can start on the back of your tongue. It can start as a hum between your clenched teeth. It can start with one thick slash of ink on a white sheet of parchment. You can change who you are, what you want, what you’ll be.”
It never was, and never is that easy.
More than anything, I dwell on the idea of stopping time. In a place where the sun is warm. Where I can lay in the long yellow grass and feel the heartbeat of the earth beneath my shoulder blades. Where the air passes through you and the sun feels like love. The rain can clean your every sadness. A place where I can breathe and listen to the song birds chirping in the budding trees. And in that moment, stop. And in that moment, stay.