Canossa

What I shall tell you here is truth in so far as I am able to define "truth" from "fiction". Yes, of course I understand that a writer's main objective is to convince her reader of the authenticity of her words. That is a convention that is a luxury for me, and a luxury I cannot afford.

At any rate I am writing to fulfill a promise. This is my Canossa, my place of humiliation. Here I expose my foolishness in humble submission to the wishes of the angel who still loves me, in spite of the pain I have caused him.

Azrael came to me in his guise of the Lover, beautiful and cajoling, and yet he spoke with a steel thunder to make me quiver before him. He is Death and yet not dead at all. He takes a form familiar to me as a human woman and yet I know he is without limit or boundary. But this knowledge of aspects beyond mortal thought or comprehension did not frighten me nearly so much as the stark pain flashing in his amethyst eyes, an electrical storm of anger and heartbreak.

"You know better than to make excuses to me, Little One," he said, folding his hands before him. Not for the first time I noticed the alabaster beauty of his "flesh". Azrael, when he chooses to aspect a mortal man, is never merely pale; instead he dresses in a costume of skin which has never had blood flowing through it in the first place. I would find it difficult to resist the lure of inevitability about him, but when he makes himself desirable to my carnal natures I can only hope he is pleased with me and has come in joy.

This night, however, Azrael wanted to torture me. "Do not even bother."

Somehow I found my voice in the gravel of my shock. "Then tell me what I've done to displease you."

"Tell you?" He began to laugh, throwing his head back before coming forward to meet my eyes again. "It is no riddle. If I thought you so inept in the mind, I would never have made you mine."

"Whatever it is, I never meant to harm you."

"Does an unaimed bullet pierce bone any less?"

I dropped to the floor, bending my legs in front of me. "Let's stop wandering around in misunderstanding, then. Azrael, as always I am awed to see you and I welcome you. But please, I'm very tired and in a black mood."

"You brought the black mood upon yourself."

"Out with it!"

Azrael looked down at me, folding his long arms over his chest. For too many minutes I thought he was judging whether or not my confusion was sincere. Finally, he broke the silences. "You have neglected me, Little One. Months in your time, aeons in mine. You rejected the work we began together and rejected me. And for what? Why did you do this? Come now, you know the answer."

Do I even need to say he was right? For a long time, far too long, I'd ignored Azrael and worse, the charge he had entrusted to me. Perhaps if my reasons were tighter, it might not seem like such foolishness. "You know it too. I fell in love."

"You became obsessed!" Azrael lowered himself so that our eyes met again. "You dedicated your mind and essence to the pursuit of some mortal man from some other place who you never met nor really knew. He occupied your mind so much that there was no room left for us."

"Then you should be happy to know that my heart is shattered," I yelled back, clenching my fists. "I came to my senses and banished him from my life. I hurt, oh I hurt! I'm not sure you can understand human pain, but I have it in seismic waves right now. Are you happy? I am suffering for my stupidity."

All at once, the hard lines of his face softened. Azrael pulled me into his arms as I began to sob. I shook hard against him but he didn't flinch, didn't let loose his embrace a bit. "Oh, Little One, you know I can't stand to see you suffer."

When my tears had abated and I lifted my head, I saw he had brought us to the Riverhead. We stood on that point which is Azrael's from which all time and space are equidistant. This felt much like a coming home might. I knew then that Azrael had expressed his hurt and would now lead us on a course of forgiveness and reconciliation.

"He was not worth you, you know," Azrael said in a gentle voice. He reached out to take my hand. "Look about you. This is yours. I am yours. Can you see your own destiny from here? Your fate is not to love errant individuals out of pity. Your heart is great, but use that greatness in the spectrum it deserves."

"I love you," I told him, and I saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "I never stopped loving you. I just lost my vision."

"Then have it back." Azrael cupped my face in his hands. For what felt like a moment, I saw him as he really is, as eternity itself. Then he was my handsome Lover again. "I forgive you, Little One, but I must ask you show your trust and faith in me and in the vision which is both you and me. You have rid your heart of the superficial. Give me that room in your heart. Let us flow together, through your fingers and into human words. You wanted this before, but do you want it again?"

"With everything that I am," I whispered. I felt something--an energy--spreading through me. Ah, this is what I remembered, this is what I had abandoned. And for what? Azrael mattered, he had mattered all of my life and even beyond that. I'd remember this lesson as best I could.

My angel smiled then. "When you get back to your realm, I want you to begin by writing what has transpired between us," he said. "You need not include everything, of course. That would take tomes. Tell about your error, your correction, and your subsequent pain. And please tell of Azrael, who suffered the loss of you and now celebrates your return to him."

And so I have done, my wits restored, my faith salvaged.

Emilie J. Conroy

ejconroy778@gmal.com