Saturday, November 20, 2010

Closing Time

When I was young I sought closure. I wanted a definite end. And I wanted the last word. It wasn't important to me; it was paramount to me. A quest for an answer was as nagging as my teenage sex drive. I thirsted for satiation.

And then one day I didn't care anymore.

One day I realized I sought satisfaction from the selfish. One day I realized I couldn't educate the ignorant. I couldn't offer sight to the blind. I couldn't receive ethicality from the unjust. And I saw that I had stood near the silent like an apostle awaited at the foot of the Sepulchre. God is not present in evil. Goodness isn't present in the deceptive. And I knew I committed sins: I expected more from the less. I coveted their contrition. I was jealous for their justice.

One day I realized I merely owed an explanation for my elimination. So, I amended my life.

Now I don't tolerate the taunt.
Now I don't court the cavernous.
Now I don't read the email.
Now I don't answer the call.
Now I walk away and I don't turn around to see a glimpse of the goodbye.