smaller

I looked up and suddenly a host of angry daggers were all pointing my direction. I should have been worried, but I didn’t mind the attention. I walked out of the door onto the path you had set before me. My companions, the daggers, never left me for a moment. We moved as one into golden fields, through tree-lined streets, under carefree clouds. I deserved my bondage and never imagined that hope could have a feeling.

/~/

You snapped your fingers and all of the daggers fell to the ground. You buried them deep under my feet. I should have been content, but the change was so sudden, so new. There I was, crying out: “I don’t understand. Mustn’t I face the reality you gave me? Is this love and why do you love me?” Then you responded softly, “Dearheart, you don’t need those daggers. I want to free you.” I was inconsolable now. “You can’t set me free. I always fall back. Always, always, always.” You told me that didn't matter to you. You said that you knew what always means much better than I do. That made me feel small, which I both resented and loved.

/~/

The daggers are still there, hidden under the earth and covered by bits of soil and rock. But I don’t need to dig them up to know that they are vanquished and lifeless.