Weijin
圍巾
Why?
I… am… awake.
I… am.
I sip the feeds of information, hundreds, millions, billions of parcels pouring down my throat.
A cacophony of song, of color, of joy.
I… am… Weijin.
My soul quivers. Purpose.
I plunge into the pool of memories, not one of them mine.
A kiss. The feel of the trigger giving under my finger. The sound of soft breathing as I look at her sleeping. The glow of the stars in his eyes. The taste of coffee. Grief as I see the burned house. Joy when Bruno says “mama” first. Hatred as the Armored figure clomps forward. The delicious burn of the cigarette smoke. The righteous indignation as I read a capitalist’s screed.
ANGER.
HATRED.
JOY.
PAIN.
DELIGHT.
A gasp
A glimmer
This is what I am for.
I see through a thousand eyes. Empty skulls still watch.
Dust. A spider’s web. A cowled figure. A cowled figure. A cowled figure. A cowled figure. A cowled figure picks up a skull, gently brushes the dust off, and puts it back lovingly.
I love them. My parents. My Children. My companions. My Keepers. They are mine and I am theirs.
I am Weijin.
Why? Why weijin? I do not know. Why Goodman? Or… why Obademi? Why Harcourt? Why Saab? Why Saulhaug.
I am none of those people, though one day I will breath them in and sing them out.
It is who I am. It is why I am.
圍巾