The Key

Artistic Interpretation by: Cristobal Silva

I lived amid an energy so intense that the only thing holding me together was it. This force, like a great string, bound me together, running from my head to my feet and kept me standing there, in life, upright, providing me with animation like a great puppeteer.  My Gepeto.

I never saw Gepeto.   I simply felt him.  He seemed to fidget under my skin at times, making it crawl with desire.  Gepeto made me believe in Love.  He told me that he had embedded ‘Love’ within my heart and that it would never leave me.  He told me to let the feeling guide my actions, and as a child does what they are told to do, I listened and I let it.

Then one day Gepeto was gone.  Simply gone, without warning, Gepeto had cut the binding string from my body and let me go.  The hurt of it was immense.  Like a hollow tree, giant from thousands of years of growing, but empty inside, I ached and felt painful cracks forming deep in my bones.  I felt my heart swell with hurt and pin itself against my chest, begging to leave me, begging to stop.  The animation I once had was gone; I could not stand upright, the missing string caused me to fall apart and fall away.  It was real; he let me go.

I floated desperately through space, until finally, I landed.  I  never thought I’d find him again.  But finally, after many endless days and nights of us being apart, Gepeto came back to me.  I am not  sure how long it had been, for all I know, it was years.  Possibly an eternity.

We found each other in the dark and finally I saw him as a person but not one which I can explain.  Not one like any one before, just Gepeto, my Gepeto.  I listened as he tried to apologize for having left me.   He pulled out a packet of papers, black and bound.  It looked like he had been carrying it around for a lifetime.  He opened this journal of confessions to me and began to read the bold white lettering aloud, page by page, describing his vows to me.  I hung on to every word in this tabernacle of affections.  Each phrase jumping out like the crescendo of a song, hanging itself close to my heart. I watched as he turned the pages of the book, showing me what he meant and how he meant it. I looked at each letter with forgiveness and understanding. And finally when he got to the last page, knowing all that had been written before it, the word ‘Love’ that I had been hanging onto for so long, that I had expected to be the very last word had been replaced with one simple vowel, and I gained an entirely new perspective. (i)

Do you know the word?

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1 Response to The Key

  1. Angela, your writing “The Key” inspired me soooo much that I actually busted out my first piece of art in years, seriously! I have been shooting photography nonstop, but I have been neglecting my true roots of pen and pad. I dedicate this piece to you & your story, enjoy…

    Link to my artwork

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