Rose out of the Fury

by summerexile

Knock……Knock……..Knock..Knock.Knock.KnockKnock.  She jumps up from bed where she had been laying with the uneasy unrest of anxious sleep.  The Queen’s servant, standing on the other side of a 2 inch wooden door, yelling her name as she continues her unyielding barrage of knocks.  Eyes still struggling to open, she throws the door open and now intently stares at the Queen’s servant, ‘What’s wrong? Is the Queen okay? What can I do?’  She is now scurrying quickly down the corridor with the servant to the Queen’s chambers, eyes beginning to open, heart racing.

 

She bends down so that she can hear what the Queen is asking of her.  ‘The dinner, what is it we will have for the dinner?  Who will be at the Dinner?’

Before she can answer the Queen continues with more questions.  ‘What will you be doing next Saturd, How do I work the TV, Can I watch a movie? Won’t you help me out to the living room?’

The clock strikes 6am, the second hand tick, tick, ticks as the Queen continues her inquisition, reaching out her hand to grab for her daughter’s tired aching arms.

 

‘I was sleeping.’ she says calmly and firmly to the servant, then switching her gaze to the queen, ‘We can talk about this later, when it is well past 6am.’  The servant and Queen agree to this deal.  She slowly turns around, letting out a sigh of displeasure.  Before she makes it to the door, she hears the Queen again, ‘When can we call your sister to see who will be at Dinner?  When will you be awake?  Can we order the meat for the Dinner now?  Where is my wallet?  Where is my credit card?’  ‘Queen, dearest,’ she stares with focused intent, ‘Now is not the time to discuss any of this, as I have mentioned.  Now, I am going back to sleep and we can deal with all of this later, especially because this dinner won’t be for a couple weeks.’ Taking steps towards the door and into the corridor, now with more vigor, intent and emotion.  The anxious unrest has turned to annoyed anger as she finds her way back into the 2 inch wooden door, closing it behind her, with one final displeased stare into the servant’s eyes.  The door slams closed, reverberating throughout the Queen’s Castle.

 

Delirium ensues as she lays her head back onto the pillow, body facing that 2 inch wooden door.  Negative and anxious energy swirl around the room, starting around the ceiling.  She can see the storm of anxiety above her as the storm grows stronger and lower, engulfing the room.  Now, there are inches between her head and the impending storm above.  She jumps out of bed, diving into the eye of the storm, grabs shoes, ties them, and again is out of that 2-inch wooden door.  Quickly to the servant, ‘I am going for a walk, tell the Queen I will be back in an hour or two.’  The clock strikes 6:07, and she has escaped the Queen’s Castle for a momentary reprieve, evading the doom of the storm.  Head down, hands in the pockets of her coat.  The calming, fresh seaside morning fog works as medicine to fight the infectious anxiety.  Nobody is walking these quiet streets at 6:08, as she scurries from sidewalk block to sidewalk block, as her mind becomes less cluttered by the second hand.  Tick..Tick…..Tick………..Tick.  Everything slows down.  Thoughts become clear and happy and good.  Maybe it’s the salt in the foggy air or the calming quietness of empty streets, but this morning’s elixir is especially healing as she continues to scurry up and down streets, blocks, sidewalks.

 

Clarity, that must be the ambrosia of the gods.  We fight and struggle for it and yet rarely find it.  We walk, hike, run.  We drink, take drugs.  We do anything to find clarity within, to clear the mind as the Yogi’s tell us is possible.  Because in that clarity, we must think, we can find the answers to our biggest struggles.  There must be an answer, if we accept there is not, then this life might really be as sad and inconsequential as some think.

 

She can find clarity easily.  Her being is closer to the gods than most of us.  She reverberates high up in the air, with the other angels.  The fog, seaside, salt air has helped her to stretch the wings and once again rest in clarity of thought.  Compassion ensues as she turns back towards the Queen’s Castle.  She understands that the Queen never meant to cause her such anxiety, displeasure or anger.  She knows the Queen loves her.  She loves the Queen, as she steps back into the Castle Walls.  Staring at that 2-inch wooden door, she heads down the corridor to begin her daily chores for the Queen.

 

‘Queen,’  She looks down upon her aging mother with calm, loving eyes, ‘Let me call everybody that may be coming to the Dinner.  I’ll handle the food, since I will be cooking it.  I’ll have the servant set up a movie for you.  Later in the day we will have you come out to the Living Room and then into the Garden if there is enough warmth and sunshine.’  She completes her mental checklist of the half-awake, dazed demands she received hours earlier.  Turning with subtle contentedness back towards that 2-inch wooden door, she feels a cold hand reach out and grab her left aching wrist.  Subtle content turns quickly to frustration.  ‘What, Queen? I need to begin my own work today along with the things I have just told you I will take care of for you.’  Her eyes squint with intent.  ‘Well, have you talked to your sister?  She is coming in October I think.  Can we plan something for then?’ The Queen mumbles on a foggy June morning. ‘Let’s get massages for her and for you and maybe for me as well?  Oh, can’t we do that?  And let’s have a dinner?  And we can have your son and his wife join us?  Oh, and won’t you call my neighbor to invite her?  Yes, and then, of course, we need to call the gardener.  And, won’t you have your son take the new pans I got?’  The Queen demands of her drug induced two year old purchase.

 

The clouds of grey, yellow storm begin to swirl around the ceiling of the Queen’s room, descending down upon her and the Queen, sitting in the eye.  The servant takes a step out of the room into the corridor.  She slowly turns, removing the Queens grasp on her aching left wrist, staring down to the bed where the Queen rests.  ‘Do you know that it’s June? You’re asking about October.’  She says to the queen with bitter distaste in her mouth. Looking up, she see’s the cloud descending down upon her.  Fight or Flight?  That’s what they ask of you, and what do you do?  She Rose up towards the storm descending upon her, that grey and yellow swirl trying it’s damndest to infect her, to make her one of them.  She looked into the storm, with the clear blue eyes of an angel.  She saw the yellow grey eyes of the storm, looked down to the yellowing eyes of her own mother, then back to the storm, but the storm was gone.  She vanquished the brewing storm.

‘Mother, Queen, I am going to do the things you’ve asked of me that will need to be done soon.  Then I will do my own work.  You can have the servant set up TV for you, or take you out to the living room.  I would like you to respect that 2-inch wooden door and allow me to do my work.  Please respect my solace, as I respect your Castle.’  The Queen, looking bewildered, not having her wishes immediately granted, ‘Rose, I didn’t mean to offend.’ Rose, cut her off, already halfway into the Corridor, looked back with a newly acquired armour that protected her wings from attack, ‘But, Queen, you did, whether or not it was your intention.’