Little Lion Man
I am in love with a race I will never be apart of
I don't truly remember the day I came to be, but I do remember the day I fell in love. It wasn't with a woman, nor a man in particular, but with the human race. The story of the good Samaritan is told in one of the many parables of the bible. A Jewish traveler, was robbed and beaten and left for dead on the dusty road between Jericho and Jerusalem. A priest came by, and passed the weary, broken man, but told him he simply didn't have the time to help the fallen man. A levite came by, and he too said he was too busy to help the man. But a Samaritan, a man whose heritage and upbringing was to hate the man lying on the ground just for his religion. But the man who was raised to hate jews, stopped, and helped the dying man. This was the day I fell in love with the humans. A priest and a Levite both could not help their own kid, but a man whose hatred stemmed back before he was born, could stop and save a man's life...that gave me hope for humanity. Many short years after that I often found myself wandering the streets of Jerusalem, Bethleham, Constantinople, Rome, Demascus, immersing myself in the richness of the people, the creation that God formed in his own image, and fell so in love with himself. And I understood why, as I watched children running in front of me and around me in the market place, or as i watched a weary traveler make sure his horse ate before himself.
But it also amazed me at how cruel humanity could be. From the massive wars of Saul and the Philistines, The 3 year siege of Samaria, to the holocaust, and Rwanda, the cruelty of humanity towards each other never ceased to amaze me. It truly was the reason I never fell from grace. I wanted to walk amongst the humans, to be apart of them, but my love for them was like a father's unconditional love to a child. I wanted to see them strive to do their best, I wanted to save them and protect them from the evil of the world. And to fall from grace, to shed my wings and live amongst them would do nothing more than fuel that malevolent nature that was buried within the race. So I settled for walking amongst them and seeing the good in humans, and to do my best to rescue and save the ones who fell by the wayside. That was my job. And it will forever remain my job, my life's passion. I have never been in love with a single entity. Until now.
You see. I have had many jobs in my life. Mostly, I’ve stayed amongst the humans on the earth. I’ve helped others in need, or seen to it they received their help. I have been a minister, a stable boy, an innkeeper, and a bar keep. I have been a carpenter, a fisherman, a ditch digger and a grave digger. I have been a soldier. However, I’ve never been a fulfilled individual. It did bring me satisfaction doing my job, as I loved the humans unlike anything on this earth. But I still felt as if I were empty. There is a greek myth that states Zeus split human souls into two at the creation of time, and we were all condemned to walk the earth in search of our other half. What if this myth was true? And would it work for the virtues. Truly…truly it could. Wendi Carlisle was born on May 12, 1489, at 6:34 am. I know this because it was the day I was struck by lightining. Or so it seems. I had been a Tibetan monk for some time, around 4 years, and had taken on a complete vow of silence. At 6:35, I had left the monastery, and was in London,England. A small child, it was as if her heartbeat was in tune with mine. She was a new born, still in her mother’s arms the first moment I saw her. But as night fell and she was left to her nursery…I held her, her dark blue eyes staring up into mine…I couldn’t help but cry. I knew what I had been missing in my life, and it was this little one, whose tiny hands wrapped around my finger tightly. Whose heartbeat was indeed in tune with mine. I vowed then to do whatever it took to protect her for as long as I would exist. Oh it took its toll, I was lashed for my subordination when I was told to part from the infant, and then again when I was told to not make myself known to her. How could I not? When she was my other half? Wendi soon became my world, the focus of all of my attention and affections. As an infant, it was as if I were her safety blanket. Her mother, after placing her in her nursery, would leave her be. Wendi knew, even as an infant, that I was there. It was literally as if we were connected, bound together through the fabric of time. How I loved the small girl whose entire hand would wrap around my finger. She would become restless in the middle of the night, and I would hold her, comfort her, and just feeling her little heart beat fluttering alongside mine as she slept on my chest…I knew I could never leave her. Not in a million years. I watched her grow, flourish. From an infant to a young adult, I watched, I talked, I gave her advice and helped her with her lessons. No one knew of me, other than Wendi. People found it odd that even as a young adult she would carry on conversations with what most considered her imaginary friend. But that was neither here nor there. She knew indeed I was not imaginary. I watched as her father brought in suitor after suitor to attempt to find her a husband. How it shattered my heart, and how it shattered hers. One night she screamed at me, asking me if I loved her, and if I did, how come I never came to call on her. I let her scream, I let her cry, and I just stood there. What was I to say? That I was madly in love with her, heart, body and soul, and yet there was nothing I could do. I told her, however, that I loved her more than anything, and as she sobbed into the night, I did as well, cloaked by the shadows there in her room. I suffered tremendously for that, my punishment still bears its marks on my back and sides.
I watched her grow into an adult and how beautiful she became. I longed for her. And then the orders came for her death. I was instructed to stay away, to not interfere, but my world would shatter to an end that night, and I would not let her leave this earth alone. I had vowed from day one, holding her softly in my arms that I would never abandon her, and in 26 years I had never missed a day with her. That night was no different. I feel responsible for her death, but to be honest, I was happy for it as well. It meant we could finally be together, I could finally call on her. I didn’t want her to suffer, but God had other plans. And she did indeed suffer, as the men shaved her, snapped her arms and legs, and gutted her. And I had to watch, because I refused to leave her side. After the men left, I cradled her, trying to comfort her, trying to stop the bleeding. I told her I was sorry, though I was so choked up I don’t know if she heard me or not. She died at exactly 8:54 pm. I remember it clearly, the night her breath left her body for good, the moment her soul mingled between Earth and Heaven. I had never felt so empty in all of my life, as he clung to her, sobbing.
But we were given another chance. As her soul attempted to find a niche in heaven, I requested her to be my angel, and she accepted. She remembered nothing of her death, nothing of her human life. She didn’t remember the times I whispered I loved her in the night. She didn’t remember anything, but I could tell she still felt the pull in her soul as I still felt in mine. Her death has haunted me, even though she is now here with me. I love her so much, I would have wanted her to live a full life, even if it meant I would be punished, or even forced to watch from a distance. As long as she had her happiness, I would have been happy. But she is here now with me, and I’ve never been more in love with someone. And yet she doesn’t remember me. I will never force it upon her, it will come in its own time, until then, however, I will love her completely from where I stand. (under construction/ incomplete)