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THE BURIAL
By: Bob Bearden aka Thon
They had created this thing between them, the man and the woman, and given life to it, and yet it had not seemed correct or proper, in the way those of narrow minds and closed hearts judged things. Though it was called Love by nature of its feeling and the way it came upon them as if destined, still they doubted it and thought it somehow deformed or at least mis-formed, and it was treated as the barbarians of ages past did with their children that were born imperfect, as something to destroy, or at least keep out of sight.
And the man and woman were not in total agreement on what to do, yet nor were they at open disagreement, so it was at best a jury-rigged type of agreement. And they decided to bury this thing, Love, so that none would every know it existed and so that it could not cause them more problems than they already had.
For he was not free to follow where his heart begged him to go, and she had so many troubles within her own life that she truely could not know what her heart said over the pains that she already endured. And knowing this, and suffering for her, the man could not refuse her wishes though his heart shouted all the louder for him to listen to what it had to say.
So, it was agreed, that this thing Love should be buried, hidden from view, so that it might die of neglect. And the two made for it a box from the wood of the Tree of Denial and put it within, wrapped in its newborn clothing still, for it was a young Love, after all. And they sealed the box with a padlock forged from a steel whose main ingredient was iron pyrite, which is Fool's Gold, and they painted it with Whitewash .
Then they took it on a dark night, so that none might know, and they buried it under a hill that was named Refusal, 'neath a weeping willow tree, and covered it with the dirt of Reality.
And of the woman's thoughts on this, the man could not know, for she was now closed to him in many ways, not the least of which were the ways of the heart. But of his own thoughts the man knew well, for they haunted him at all times, and he found that he could not sleep for the guilt of it, for ever when he lay in the dark and listened, he could hear the scratch, scratch, scratch, which he knew was the thing named Love clawing at the lid of its coffin. And his prayer became, "God forgive me, I buried it alive."
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