Don't Move

I don’t move. It’s not because there is only a foot of space between the two walls of dried mud but because it hurts. It hurts to walk; to barely feel the sickeningly, cold mud squish between my toes. It hurts to breathe; to inhale the stenches of gun powder, haunting smoke, and bitter gasoline. It hurts to hold it in; my feelings of my poor family at home, my three children wondering what their father’s doing right at that very moment.

But that’s the reason why I’m here… right? Yes, of course it is. I would do anything for my country, my leader, my citizens…my family.

As I sit here writing I realize something seems off. I’m surrounded by two men that I feel I’ve become close with since the beginning of this hellish war, but I was once surrounded by four. I just looked up at one of my men and when I meet his depressed eyes, I tare mine away quickly.

Not again. Please no. Not again.

Never mind. I was once surrounded by five men.

I want to go home. I do, but I will never let anyone know. I take pride in the fact that I’m making a difference whether I live failing or die trying. I know that there are people back home that look up to me but what or who do I have to look up to?

Dropping my pencil, I try to look up between the trench walls that surround me. The sky is filled with the ghostly remains of smoke.

I don’t move.

It’s not because there is only a foot of space between the two walls of dried mud but because the dark night lights up with a ray of gunpowder. I don’t move even though men rush around me frantically. Instead of grabbing my gun like all the rest, I grab ahold of the questionable last moments of peace I may have left.

Temptations

Author’s Note: The last chapter of Jekyll and Hyde was a lot of information to take in. While explaining what happened to the warmth of Jekyll that was extinguished by the character of Hyde, the author made sure to keep repeating the temptations of evil that was tickling the edges of Jekyll’s sanity. We all have temptations in our lives that always seem to take over our actions. Whether it is the small temptation to cheat on a math test, just to get one specific answer, or a large temptation to commit murder, we all go through it. We all don’t want to be tempted by the evil or even good, but sometimes, it seems it’s just too hard not to give in.

We don’t want to be tempted

But we just can’t help but give in.

We don’t want to smile

But we give into the laughter

We don’t want to smell it

But we lift the lid to the milk carton anyways

We don’t want to taste it

But we dip our finger into the strange liquid

We don’t want to look

But we just can’t help it

We don’t want to know

But we just can’t help but to question

We don’t want to hurt her feelings

But we can’t help but utter just that one judgmental comment

We don’t want to hit him

But we just can’t help it when he gives us that taunting smirk

We don’t want to cry

But we give into that little tickle under our noses

We don’t want to kiss him in front of your parents

But we just can’t help it

We don’t want the side effects,

But we just want to see what one intake of smoke would feel like

We don’t want to lie,

But the truth always seems to hurt too much to bring to the surface

We don’t want to be tempted

But we just can’t help but give in.

Better Off Not Knowing

                Authors Note: Throughout the whole tale of Jekyll and Hyde, everyone seems to want to know the answers to every question and assumption they have. The problem with knowing the answer is how the reaction unfolds when they know what’s hidden inside the cabinet. They don’t know how to react or they don’t even have a choice but to react unhealthily (literally). This post is a spin-off of what is going on in this story while explaining something very personal.

It was better not to know. The curiosity is awful but knowing what is really going on is worse.

Knowing he has it just like my grandpa had it. Knowing my grandpa didn’t survive.

There’s no way to escape it. No way to get past the power of the heart or the pump of one blood vessel, because when one delicate thing goes wrong, everything could crumble around it.

I had no idea that this was the reason I never got a childhood with my grandpa. I never knew that the disease runs in the family and that any one of us could inherit the gene. I had no idea that it was passed down from my grandfather to my dad.

The nurses say don’t worry. My mom says he’ll be just fine. My dad brushes it off as a joke. But there is no joke here. No laughter in this subject at all.

They don’t know. They don’t know it’s hurting me. They don’t know that I’m scared he will never walk me down the aisle.

They don’t know.

But its better this way.

It’s better not to know. The curiosity is awful but knowing what is really going on is worse.

On the Other Side of the Window...

Authors Note: Motifs regarding light, shadow, and fog, scatter around chapter five repeatedly. The descriptive words paint a picture with these characteristics yet they are always controlled artificially. The author of Jekyll and Hyde presents light through fire and candlelight but not once talks about the soft slant of the moon’s light or the drifting of the sun’s shadows. This poem spins off of this concept yet adds a completely new perspective on the effect environment has on the atmosphere of a scene.

What would it be like to feel the sun?

The tenderness?

The warmth?

The light?

Always natural

Always pure

Never made

Never artificial

Through a stained, sealed window,

Moon’s light teases

Separated by a thin glass

Never able to meet

Dye holds tight to the air

Yet slowly softens over time

Smells grow richer with smoke

While flames grow longingly to escape

Never natural

Never pure

Always made

Always artificial

What would it be like to feel the sun?

The tenderness?

The warmth?

The light?

Yet so close

But so far away.

Dimmed and fogged…

My light is buried

Romantic and free…

They’re light shines

Physical vs. Mental

Her nose tickles igniting a soft flame in her eyes. Yet soft, the dry sensation overwhelms her throat, her eyes, and her body as it sighs in defeat. She doesn’t know why. She never knows. The awareness to cry is the only thing that will save her from the exhaustion, the doubt, the heaviness. Already bad enough, the feeling was but a feeling which she could discover no more; impossible to distinguish.

She began to go hopeless, hopeless in mind; and though of course she continues to take a comfort in defeat for relief of her spirit, she sees and she has seen the outcome. There is no reason to feel such angst toward herself, towards the world around her. Her reasons are clueless and jumbled in a mess of wonder… but she still feels it.

Trying to stay intact with her warm skin, the tears drip coolly over her face until dropping in defeat. The pressure in her throat escapes with a soft yet strong gasp of a cry. She chokes on it for the questionable reasons as to why she is feeling the way she is, but that only makes her gasps turn into wails.  

It seems her mental subconscious has no control; no control over what her physical senses project. She is innocent to what her body wants compared to what her eyes desire. Weak and vulnerable characteristics can be controlled with her mind set yet it seems she has no choice but to show the world just those very things. Not realizing what is wrong is the wrong in the first place. Slowly deteriorating under the pressure of what the body desires, her conscious shuts down and finally lets her physical state take over with a great sob of defeat.

Authors Note: Dr. Jekyll might be anything but evil at this point of the story. We’ve only read a few chapters but what I’ve personally took note of was that maybe Dr. Jekyll is being forced to be the man he becomes at night using quotes like, “I have no choice.” Physical urges of Mr. Hyde against the mentally stable conscious of Dr. Jekyll, might be fighting for different outcomes. This story seems to be the only way I can relate to this certain feeling of confusion; feelings, emotions, and physical states take over while your mind and subconscious  sits by and waits patiently for the storm to past.