ON MY BRUISED KNEES

LOCKED IN

 

The sun beats relentlessly, fearsomely, constantly on Little Red Hole Canyon. Unless you have had the mis-fortune of stumbling on this tiny, tiny speck of the Grand Canyon, you cannot fathom this hell hole. As soon as the sun rises, what seems to be an inch, I imagine I see snakes waiting, just waiting to spit poison in my face, rattle music I don't want to hear.

 

You can be sure I am not here by choice. Somehow I seem to be God's captive. My thoughts question the lord constantly. What did I do? Why am I in this hole that has locked me away from my family, the life I still believe I had? 'Tell me, Lord. I bow to you, pray for forgiveness for anything you have seen that I don't know about. I've prayed day and night for too long. I am aging quickly. The sun has turned my skin to brown course leather. My eyes are no longer clear blue. In fact, I'm not too sure they exist at all. When night falls and the hole is pitch black, I feel slippery things sliding across my body. Afraid to frighten them, I barely breathe, wait for them to find the sleep I cannot.

 

I have scraped and scraped a piece of the red rock, made it long and sharp. Although I want to vomit at the thought, I will kill a snake, split it down it's slimy body and let it bake in the broiling sun. The sharp cactus must cry at night because water runs down spikes when I open my eyes before the blinding sun closes them.

 

'Lord, surely it is you, only you, who has given me my one hope of salvation, a salvation that I only recognized when the sun actually hit it with such force that Robby appeared. Too many days, nights have passed and my son stayed hidden from me. Suddenly, now I can clearly see him sitting high on the rough, hard surface of a boulder. Look, Lord, see him up there on a red chair, something like the one he had in his college business class. The shape similarity eludes me but I sense his presence there on that red rock. Did you know his name is Roddy and the chair is really a throne? Of course, you know that. You know everything. But I do not. Is anyone still looking for me? Has my wife found another lover as good as I had been?'

 

Roddy's throne casts a shadow on the edge of the stone wall around me. The shadow moves until it is swallowed, becomes part of the  darkness. 'Where are you keeping the moon, god? There used to be a moon every night. Sometimes it was behind clouds but it played peek a boo with us. Roddy and I had such fun watching, waiting, counting the minutes before the moon peeped at us. If you show me the moon, I will not ask for much else.'

 

The snake tasted ok, a bit tough, but I won't let it dry out so long the next time one gets anywhere near me. I am no longer afraid of the poisons and may bake scorpions tomorrow. 

 

The sun has only touched the east corner of my prison. Something is happening. Something is strange. I feel a new wind, my torn shirt blows open. The wind stops. All is still. The wind comes again. It feels stronger, closer. It makes a strange sound. As the noise becomes almost unbearable, I am forced to cover both ears. There is a squealing, metallic roar that reminds me of a siren. It is piercing sound from which I cannot hide.

 

The noisemaker comes between the sun, my Robby's throne and me. 'Oh, my god, God, it is a plane! A ladder is coming down for me. I see a man, a boy, standing in a doorway, waving to me, screaming words I cannot hear. The ladder won't reach me. I cry. I yell and it flies away.

 

The plane is gone. The sun is gone and I am still here, waiting, waiting for the pilot, my son, my god, somebody, anybody save me, save me!