Catacombs

The last time I saw my dad was deep down in the dungeons of the catacombs. He had been given one attempt to reach me, and from the recesses of my mind and soul, I had the knowledge that this one chance had come at great sacrifice to his existence.

The deep melody he made with every movement, in an attempt to get closer to me, to try to make me understand, resonated from the heavy chains he had been cast, rocking like pendulums from his wrists his ankles and his soul.

Glancing around, I noticed the limestone had been here for ages long past, as the large hewn rock had melded into itself just as lovers do when they first join together, not realizing that they too, will soon become like the catacombs, become one, even after death, for all eternity, with every child comes a new rock, a new dungeon, a new catacomb.

As I turned back to my dad, I saw he had been here for thousands of years, his hair was very long, his beard had become a rabbi's beard, seemingly never to have had a blade even brush by. He was deeply tormented, screaming words I have never heard, for me, trying as he might, to pull me out of my unconsciousness in order for me to understand.

I finally saw the gravity of the situation, and tried to hear, to understand the old Gaelic? or maybe Welsh language which had been lost in time eons ago, but I knew the language, it pulled and yanked at my mind, and just as desperate my dad was, my own soul became the same,

But my time was up.

The guards who had been holding me back came into focus, why so many I wondered? There seemed to be an army of them, to hold back a daughter who had been summoned, who had no idea she was even able to be allowed to come anywhere near this place in hell. I felt their hands of molten iron grip into my arms at any attempt I made to get closer to him, their hold on me seemed to be stronger than my dads chains which were clinging to him and rocking onto, into his ancient flesh, bruising his bones with every movement, he seemed not to notice, his urgency was much more clear, his voice became brittle, tears were streaming from his old green grey eyes, even so, he yelled the ancient words of warning until they were a husky whisper, he had been muted, the realization had come to both of us in that instance, it was to be that way the whole time, teaching us that our earthly ways are as fruitless as the cold damp stone which seemed to hang menacingly around us as the guards dragged me away, through the long walkways of the dark catacombs, dragging me back up, level by level, and then finally releasing me back into the warmth of the delicate sun.

To be, yet alone again.

As I slowly thawed in the blue hue of the firmament, I came to realize, that my dad was not a part of the catacombs or the dungeons, he had not given himself to them, he had not become one with them like the lovers. I took comfort in the knowledge that he was to be set free, sooner or later, be it a thousand years, be it two, it matters not.

I wondered at the words of the ancients which I knew but didn't know, tried to lay control over the fright which might overcome me if I pondered too closely at what caused the terror and desperation my dad was trying to save me from. Knowing that whatever I do, whatever I do not do, I still have no control of what lay before me.

But brace myself for what lay ahead, steel my mind, steel my heart.

Taking anything I am able to arm myself from the events which have already been engulfed in time.

And then I noticed that I hadn't 'taken' anything at all, the way? it had been mine the whole time through.