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Mors et vita duello
There she is. I observe her silently in her dark den, on the wall, red - hot from the sun. Every so often a flicker, a rapid movement, the only witness to our existence. With a slow gesture, she inches out slightly; I feel her eyes watching me, cautious, wary. The only quiet spot away from the dazzling sun is under the shade of this tree. Motionless, always motionless. Even time seems to have slowed down on this summer afternoon. The wary rustling of the olive trees converses with the chirping of the cicadas. Without batting an eye, I watch the stream flowing in the distance. Muffled by the heath, voices of children reach me as they play in its waters. Everything vibrates in that scorched air, only she and I are silent accomplices of each other. Accomplices? Slowly, a cloud darkens the sun, the cicadas ceases their noise, the stream is again alone. I look at her and understand that something has changed in her. I feel her calculating gaze upon me. Maybe I have also began to challenge the look in her eyes. In fact, she stiffens and is transformed into a hounded and guarded beast. Fear insinuates itself between us. A moment, and we are no longer accomplices but enemies. Enemies? I am rock, I am fingers, I am a hand, arm, power, an inexorable fury which crashes and destroys. A thousand rivulets of that which is not blood escape from that squelched body, a few spasms testify to an existence that is ending. With a silent scream of victory, I seem to catch a last glimpse of the surprise as her thousand eyes are extinguished. I will not dance because of you. You will have no power over my limbs. There will be no rites and music and days of shouting. I have defeated you. Again. And again I wil draw your face on the frame of my drum, a trofee of victory. Another time, another challenge? We'll see. Again I am immobile, awaiting the new song of the cicadas. 2010, Marco Beasley |
2010 - Fra' Diavolo (Arcana A 359)
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