…in the end, exasperated by non-compliance on my part,

my refusal to bend to the torrent of abuse that her indignity

demanded, the strength sapping empty gale

that I would pray to whatever deity

that shrunk in the back ground,

My deity’s peace sign held above Her head and on the reverse

the phrase, “Don’t shoot the messenger”  emblazoned in bright colours

with the quirkiness of capital letters like punishment

thrown in here and there to make Her look as if she was hip, happening,

and a groovy chick in which to side along…but I knew

deep down that She was just as afraid of the threats as I was,

that she would shrink like a Jinn into Her bottle,

the genie never let loose for long despite

what was promised me, my only hope of salvation apart from Death

and in the end she would declare a truce,

but always on her terms, like signing an armistice in which

instead of repatriations of a one sided war, in which the forever loser

pays with his life as well as goods and broken field damaged heart,

I would pay with the threat of my salvation, my books and music,

My memories and my sanity, the ultimate demand as she cried

pseudo-graphic tears and the silence,

oh the silence…

the silence was the worst punishment due and my Jinn, my personal deity

who was supposed to look after my soul

and whisper crumbs of comfort

late into the night as I prayed to die, She would pack Her bags,

salute me mockingly, pull down her trilby

over her flowing red hair and smile saying, “I’m out of here pal…

If you cannot stand up against the empty hurricane,

then why should I take care of you, pray to someone

else to take your pain away and to take the

other pain away as well.” She would leave, naked except

for her leather brown trilby and a pair of glasses that made Her look

smoking hot and ready for her date with Her bit on the side,

the Devil Herself, only to come back crawling back later, stinking of dry

Bourbon and rank hypocrisy, “Come on fella, don’t be downbeat,

the empty Hurricane

is no match for me, and even if by some chance

she blows me away and tries to even seduce with her Medusa

like lies, I shall forever be in your corner”,

I would laugh inwardly as the knife

was the better option for after all in this never ending

capitulation for a quiet life, Devil, Jinn or God and the empty Hurricane

would leave me forever exhausted and

breathless.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015.