Still Life

by HelluvaGirl

There are loves that leave you out of balance.

Loves that make you smile years after they pass.

The ones you chat about with old friends.

The others that are better forgotten.

And I think some people, once in their lifetime, find themselves in a firestorm of unearthly nature.

Its nature is that of God. It lights everything up; gives sense to still things; outlines the connections between all that has ever happened and what is yet to be. It opens up the secrets of being, and the Universe together with the Eternity are suddenly dancing within the one who Loves, the new disciple, so ordinary and lifeless before.

This kind of Love rarely, if ever, has much in common with humane dreams coming true, happy endings or a regular life together under one roof. It often doesn’t make sense or looks insane from the outside.

Yet it is like a shower of fuel to a bonfire, when suddenly everything catches flames, everything is burning,  b u r n i n g    b r i g h t. There is no way back –

and what is left after the fire is gone?


After this kind of feeling, there are no people, no impressions, no developments that could reanimate the soul. Nothing as big, as earth-shaking.

I am the silence now. There is nothing and no one for me.

The funny thing, after all this time, they suddenly fall, one after another. They fall for me like teenagers, be they 27 or 48… They worship me. Court me. They bring gifts and write poems and want to be the ones.

What do I feel? Compassion sometimes. Irony often. But most of the time, I feel nothing. I watch their expectations break into millions of sharp pieces of fury and disappointment, eventually. There was a point I realised I had to consciously withdraw from even an attempt of entering that sort of relationships.

A human can handle the Firestorm once: it flashes bright upon everything you are and there’s nothing you can’t see in that glorious and transforming light.

Sometimes, though, you have to put all your power to extinguishing that fire. To survive.

And you do.


What you keep thinking every day after the burning’s gone?

I am the burned forest now, a forest that used to be. There is nothing and no one here.

Eventually, you stop asking why. Only the compassion grows to those who fall for you.

Does it have to do with a person? A connection, perhaps. As if you’ve been destined to go through it, and you do. After you recognise someone from the Other Side, someone you’ve remembered from the first look…

There’s no poetry in that today.

Only the silence of a life that isn’t there.