Wind blew slew of sand around us, between us, engulfing us; then the Watcher was gone … but still I felt eyes upon me. So now would it be that he and I should travel together? But why not attack? Was someone holding him back? If so, why let him so near? To cause fear, perhaps; to see if the man be sincere? Such divine test seemed almost grotesque! Had I been blessed only to be made an heavenly jest? This was too much to ingest as I slowly, painfully progressed, possessed with determination. But would Watcher now molest me along the way, and that, perhaps, at God’s behest? There was no reason to express my distress. Who would hear my voice, or see my tears? I’d made my choice — I alone — though now I could not rejoice.
Then the eyes again, spies of hell, guise of lies. But only the eyes, sweeping in, keeping watch; sweeping out but ever about me. I knew, so surely as the wind blew. And who slew the Giant? I was no David, and stones would not fell one with no bones anyway. Or was the Watcher now made of flesh and bones, so freshly thrown from heaven? Had he known what it is to groan, to be disowned and wander alone with no throne for such might and power and beauty, now confined to obscurity of earth? And what do you know of heaven and earth? Your own birth upon dirt so recent, so indecent? What do you even know of the place of your birth; your own lack of eternal worth? Whisper questions to my mind, but I was in no bind to answer. Instead, unexpectedly, I laughed and sang, played the part of happy dancer, fool prancer to throw off the cancer-thoughts!
“Meleği, my meleği, remove this blight; slow down the fading light of candle of hope; give my heart greater scope!” I swirled and twirled in the burning wind and churning sand. “Even still … even still, my sweet meleği, thank you for the light now by which I may plow ahead. And when the dark comes again, as surely it shall, mark my place and with you beside me it shall be not so stark, and when the sun rises again, as surely it must, we will again embark on our journey … on our journey home, and not on gurney, but our own two feet to the beat of victory won and, yes, in dignity! No longer in captivity, I’ve been given ability to walk in freedom with no chain to fetter; I’ve been given the better part of me, my sweet meleği, so bid the crotched Watcher turn his eyes elsewhere to burn some other sight, for there is nothing here for him, save spear of divine defense!”
Ah! Plenty of faux courage, yet how many times have I heard this cry to deny my power! You dance and sing like a fool, woven from the spool of Dyēus, divine ghoul seated upon his celestial stool! You believe you have received blessing, but you’ve been deceived. Dyēus only means to interweave you into his slave-service, but do you perceive his help here, now. You are naïve and will achieve nothing! Nothing! No matter the ‘new’ life you conceive, you will only bereave yourself.” In his words I heard something of the well-honed tone of Bast, cast again in disdain to profane all goodness. Oh! Goodness? S/he heard my thoughts, which brought a bit of a chill. Does the thought of ‘goodness’ thrill you, then? But what is ‘goodness,’ really? Isn’t it silly for you to assume by the spume of your mind filled with fume that you know ‘goodness?’
“I may be limited, and even ill-fitted to be philosopher or guru; no astronomer, prophet, or scholar; yet I am a man, and though short be my span of life, I began my journey in flurry of confusion and profusion of pain and stain of guilt; this much I know and will gladly show. But this man I am now has been somehow changed, rearranged, no longer deranged. And I can see with heart and soul as well as with my eyes, and this is the better part from the very start. Of this I have been convinced amidst much trial and terror, so no one need question in deceitful tone. But rather heed what I say: Goodness is life and bright light, and star-filled night; rain to wash away the pain; the gentle breeze that sings through the trees; everlasting hope by which to cope; beauty and serenity, duty to family and friends; peace that gives lease to quiet harmony; charity without disparity … and so much more. Yes, even I know what is good and it is food for my whole self… But you? You left all of this and are now bereft and starving for even a farthing’s worth of this banquet.”
Meleği — means angel (der. from Turkish)