To Yearn


Gasping for air, he reaches for his brow and interrupts a drop of sweat already on its chosen course. The pressure and expectations of the sun are beaming down on him as they have his entire life. For years, he would make attempts at ignoring its demanding, unforgiving judgement, but to no avail. It stood still, unmoving, and relentless on his tired and unsure spirit. Though it felt like the heaviest thing, he tilted his head backwards, looking up at his captor. As his eyes tried to shut themselves, in fear of the glaring light, he wondered if anyone was looking back at him. He wondered if they knew. If they had known what pain and anguish he had been through on this journey, would they have sympathized with him and sent the sun away? Or would they have laughed cruelly, thinking to themselves that he was deserving of the misery he had endured?

As his eyes wandered, a faint glimmer attracted him. Bringing his attention away from the ethereal light, he saw what looked like a pond. Surrounded by greenery and embodying all that he could ever want, he stood in awe. The blueness sat there, swaying, as if participating in a dance.

Forcing his limbs to move with his mind, he made his way towards the hopefulness that stood before him. The more he walked, the more it seemed farther away. In the faint wind, he could hear the voices of those in his past that told him he would fail. He shook the voices away as he shook the sweat off of his weathered face. Assuming his eyes were playing tricks on him, he kept walking.

His search for water had led him in circles and squares and all other directions- except for the direction he needed to be. What were only days felt like years and centuries of waiting and searching. Searching for what? Perhaps he did not know. Perhaps he knew once but had soon forgotten because it was no longer of importance. He only needed one thing to survive his journey – the one thing he could not find. The glimmer of the water’s surface had always seemed so far away and unreachable, yet it is was close as he wanted it to be.

And just as his knees had begun to give up from beneath him. He struggled to keep himself up by grasping tightly on his legs. Reaching down, he feels an object in his pocket. A flask of water; barely full, but water nonetheless.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: