Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Leaf - Concrete

I can feel the coolness beneath my feet. My toes tingle from it and I feel empty inside. This makes me smile. I like it here. The white sterile room around me. I lay on the floor and stretch out. My fingers and toes reach for the walls. My muscles release in a sigh as I am like a heat sink to the concrete floor sucking all the heat from my body. I close my eyes and take in the feeling. Is this what it feels like to die? The warmth draining from me, feeling at complete ease, why am I not fighting it? Not that I picture death a lot, but if I had to think of my death, it would be a violent action, with me kicking and screaming and not wanting to go. I want to live I would scream. Why are you taking me? Why are you doing this?

But here I am alive and well, placed in this hospital, because she was worried about me. She stands on the other side of the glass talking to doctors choosing my fate. I am still sprawled on the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see someone taking notes. Great! I wish I were double jointed at this moment so I could do something to freak them out. Maybe not, because then they would restrain me, and that would not be fun. They would place me safely in a bed, arms pinned to my side, cover me with a blanket and tend to my every need.

No, just lay here, don't move. Pretend you are a majestic maple leaf in all it's fall glory that has just lazily fallen from its perch high up in the sky. Shh! Can you hear it? The nothing. What a beautiful sound. My leafy self would gaze longingly up to my former home, next to all my branch mates, friends, who have yet to succumb to their fate. I could feel the tug of the wind coaxing me away, come with me, it would whisper in my ear. Do leaves have ears? My home would gently hold me, not quite wanting to give me away. My stem would try reluctantly to hold on, you can't let go of your home, where will you live next?, I would think. But the wind would whisper to me that there is a world out there to see, and he could take me wherever I wanted to go. I feel the last bits of tree letting go of my stem. I billow in the wind as my branch mates call to me, I'm not sure what they are saying, it's just shrieking. The wind carries me for a while, I lay in his open arms floating through my existence. Slowly, I float to the ground and let out a sigh. I haven't really travelled that far from my home. I see it above me. What treachery is this I think? The wind promised me the world and I am but a mere block from my home, unable to return. A gentle hand picks me up and waves me about. I see a small face look deeply into me. Her cheeks are rosy against her ivory skin. She is bundled with hat and mittens as sprinkles of rain begin. We run, she yells to someone in the distance. Small puffs of white escape her lips as she explains the beautiful leaf she has found. We travel further, to her home I suspect, she dries the rain from me and places me in a large book. What madness is this I think? I can feel the energy draining from me, I am brittle, dry, is this death? The cherub reaches for my dried perfectness. She preserves me in wax paper. I will be on display now, for all to gawk at. I am dry and withered, merely covered in shiny wax. It is a facade.

I hear someone calling my name, it echoes in this concrete peace. They're sending me home, for now. Goodbye white room, goodbye cold concrete. Why must I go and feel the warmth and colors of the world? Cold concrete is nice.