Echoing Messages

I

Would you like to go with me?
"And she answered 'No' to me ..."

I mouthed the words to your song as you continued. I sang, barely above a whisper in my own voice. You stood on the stage, illuminated by the spotlight, your voice echoing through the silence in this world.

You never ceased to fill me with wonder, with amazement. I drank in every single syllable you uttered, every rise and fall of your voice, the vulnerable quiver, the smallest gasp, as you sang of a hopeful boy, who had been turned down by the girl he was head over heels for. The helplessness of love.

Love and hope. Such fragile words. So difficult and unwilling we are to hold on to it. When the glass I once held shattered, I was cut by the pieces, the tiny shiny shards. I don't want to hurt myself again.

When I think of the pain sometimes, I don't know if I should trust you ... A voice tells me I should. Should I listen to it? It's easier not to, so I wouldn't have to search through myself, rummage through drawers and layers of things I would rather not see, rather they were kept hidden.

Maybe one day.

II

You could transport your audience anywhere. You showed us things we have never seen before. New sights and sounds! I hear the rustle of leaves over my head, my shoes sinking into soft dirt and spongy mosses. The humid air makes me perspire a little.

Your voice floats above all this. Intangible, but there.

You sang of a beautiful, charming woman in the tropics. I know this song.

Liberian girl, you know how you came
And you changed my world.

"Just like in the movies."

I found you in the middle of a clearing, observing vines here and there and picking up a leaf to examine it.

"Music is everywhere," you said in earnest. "We just need to step into the moment and listen to it."

You showed me the leaf.

"Life throbs with rhythm," you said. "It's music."

III

"For you," you breathed, gesturing. "You, and you ..." And with a climatic finality, you took your bow.

The cheers and roars, the pouring adulation of a large, invisible audience sounded across the stadium – but distantly, very distantly. They were from the many days and years before – once present, now faded. However, they would never be wiped away.

You closed your eyes, indulging in the moment. "I love you all," I heard you say softly.

The spotlight never seemed to dim, but you stepped back, leaving the stage.

"Wait!" I yelled. It's so dark without you. I don't want to be in the darkness alone! But you were so far away, you couldn't hear me.

Don't leave me here. I wanted to cry. "Don't leave," I whispered. My hand fell to my side. I was lost, directionless. I can't do this.

It was then I heard your voice again.

"You know the way," you said. Through the tears in my eyes I could just make out your figure, standing just outside the circle of the spotlight.

"Don't leave." It was the one small croak I could manage.

"You do know," you said again, kindly. "I've given enough clues!" And I heard you laugh in that familiar, childlike way. So carefree.

I picked myself up. The clues ... I looked around, and like the thoughts in my head I saw them lay scattered on the floor – but they were there for me to collect,for me to work out the answers and solutions and my pathway ahead.

You would always be there waiting, listening, giving anyone who needed that occasional leg-up. In a way, you never really did left the stage.

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