I walk down a street. Patches of the street are bathed in the yellow
light of the street lights. The Bridge presents itself to me. Each
step, high above the calm, flowing water takes me closer. The Night
rises behind me, blanketing everything below, chasing the sun
that has now hidden itself below the horizon.
I walk through the Labyrinth of street corners; pale white lights
spill out of windows illuminating my path. The shrieks and howls of
strays echo through; the sounds of screams, thuds, sirens slither about,
appearing to be everywhere and nowhere. It permeates the space, both
beckoning and deterring. My pace is slow and melancholy, but
determined and smooth.
I glance into a passing window, a portal into something that might
have been, and see a child huddled in a corner crying, desperately
hugging a worn out teddy bear. A man and woman are yelling. I climb up
the fire escape. Next floor up, new window. One man is handcuffed to the
bed. Another violates him. One woman watches, whip in hand, ready; the
other lays strewn on the floor. Next floor up, new window. The room is
dimly lit. A woman sits near the bed, curled up in the fetal
position. She stares right through me, eyes red like blistering rage,
uncontrolled and set loose. Her face is cold and full of shock. A second
woman lies on the bed, convulsing, blood slowly dripping from her nose.
A handful of syringes decorate the floor. Next floor up, new window. Or
lack thereof. Shards of glass glisten on the windowsill. Bottles lay scattered everywhere. A man
sleeps alone on the bed. He is unshaven. He grasps a picture of a
couple, smiling. The man is dressed in black; the woman in white.
I finally get to the terrace. I walk over to the edge and look out,
past the Bridge, into the sea of the warm yellow lights. I feel a
raindrop hit me. And then another. And then another. I close my eyes,
spread my wings, and let the rain encompass me.
I find myself crying, crying with the rain.
My knees feel weak, but I stay standing. I look down at my hands and
notice my fingers have become fists. Anger builds up from inside me.
Across from where I stand, on the top floor of another build, through
the window I see a man, a woman, and a baby. They are poor, but they
look happy. They cuddle together.
I walk back across the bridge. The Night descends behind me as if now
running away from the sun, soon to rise. The baby in my arms smiles at
me. She is beautiful. I smile back, kiss her forehead, and continue
walking, back towards the warmth of the yellow lit streets.
It isn't easy, you know.
If I could I would free them all. I wish I could take all their suffering away.
IT ISN'T FAIR!
It is, however, my burden. I put my faith and trust in Something greater than myself.
And I walk my path. As an Angel of Death.