You walk into the packed square and stand in the sunlight, face looking up at the balcony. Yours, one of 1000’s of faces, expectant, raised, eyes alight with hope, love and prayer.
Did she know….
The sun is strong, high, glaring light on her upturned face. The cobbles rich, dark, matt and noisy under foot. Shadows sharp, the darkness deep, hidden, alcoves filled with stories happening and happened.
Did she know….
From those dark alcoves the eyes watch her.
Perhaps there is no agenda in the gaze, perhaps they just notice her and focus upon her their hope, love and prayer. There are so many people here now, jostling, shouting, calling… how can those eyes still look at her? How can they still locate and pierce upon her?
Does she know….
The eyes that watch her, are they a ghosts? Are they a mans? A woman’s? A lovers? A thief’s? A long-lost-daughter’s? How many eyes are actually watching her? So many shadows, alcoves, columns, too many to count. Do they all have eyes?
And does she know?
As I watch them watching her, I am certain that she knows. She has a trick up her sleeve, a secret, she is hiding something, she has a plan….
And you, pretending to be oblivious to all of it, in that open-faced-innocence that knows exactly how seductive it is, continue to look up at the balcony.
She is dressed the part. She has chosen perfectly. She blends, absolutely, and yet she is sharply defined in the crowd. Perhaps the eyes that alight upon her have gifted her with a curious radiance, piercing eyes giving her a piercing sharpness in the brazen light.
And you, I can see you there, not blending in at all, taking all the energy of the crowd and forcing their gaze upwards as you reach into you deep, deep, deeply and pull it out, slowly, oh, so slowly.
A silence decends and I am aware of you, her, all those eyes in the darkness, in the histories and the unfolding stories. And all the eyes that you have drawn, dragged, pulled, driven, focussed upward, high, high high up.
We are all transfixed.
Suddenly all is so still. No breath, no sound, no movement in that blinding light. All breath held, mouths open in the light, throats exposed as the gaze is up, high, alight, yet also tight in the shadows, all eyes squinting, but your beautiful blind eyes are wide open and streaming tears as you hold all in thrall.
Tears are pouring off your face. Rivers of tears, falling, falling, darkening the cobbles, rivulets of tears forming, moving through the cobbles, through the crowds’ feet.
The curtains part, high, high, high up on the balcony and as I walk out in my red slippers and reach out a hand to touch your tears, to catch some tiny part of the river of love and adoration that pours blindly forth:
She turns around and opens her mouth, teeth bared, and she hisses.
It is rumbling, low, vicious, filled with loathing, and as she hisses, out of her mouth climb all of the words in all of the languages that have ever been spoken.
Her scream is so loud, triumphant, curling, roaring, yelling, whispering, hurling and endless. It does not stop, it is all, everything, and suddenly.
Nothing.