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The Light

She is covered in scars.
How interesting! How curious!
Her scars seem to have scars.
You’ve never seen anything like it.
You want to know more. How could you not?

In her darkness,
she is exposed.
What you couldn’t learn from her!
You’ve been wandering unaware
of the limits of your experience,
but here she is.
Can you touch her?
Would it be okay?

Someone else does before you.
She starts to bleed;
is she delicate?
She doesn’t flinch;
is she strong?

Whispers.
Questions.

At last she speaks.
The light!
The light that comes from her!
The truth!
You will never be the same!
Walls of ignorance tumbling.
Thank you!
Thank you!
Thank you!

Praise.
Relief.

Then she looks at you.
She makes eye contact with you.
Her eyes are full of contempt
for you.
She points her finger
at you.
She says
THIS IS YOUR FAULT

You roll your eyes.
She is not the light.
She is
just another worthless,
vile,
lying,
you know who.

And to think,
you almost fell for it.

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