The One – Song 5: Threshing, Segment 1

 Originally published May 13, 2019...

Relationships change, deepen, and explode in this first segment of Song 5: Threshing. If you’ve ever seen a threshing machine at work, you know that it has a revolving mechanism whose purpose is to separate grain from the rest of the plant. Again, as in the prior Song, a separation, literally, which also occurs in this Song. Whatever is separated must have been whole to start with, and it is that remembered wholeness that can break hearts. 

The main character, the teacher, and Jani continue their paths together and apart, and near the end of this segment a new person takes the stage. Our story begins to heat up. Dialogue pervades the action. The game is afoot. Prepare for adventure over the coming weeks.

Song 5: Threshing – Segment 1

                          I know what it is to walk

                                    in a dark, tight space

                                    in a thin, pale town

                                    where even the wind races to be through

                                    and leaves not so much as dust behind

                        I have run to the sea

                                    but still I fear I will be

                                    sucked back – swallowed again

                                    down that long dark throat

                                    a canal with no light at the end

                        I re-member that place

                                    straining to be a town

                                    its pale ejaculations can never 

                                                form a fevered bed firing dreams of light

                                                never a fertile spore alive and bright 

                                    Instead its spectral shimmers

                                                pass unseen and spread spent seed

                                                to sprout and die in breeding beds 

                                    that drove me toward shore through water and ice

                                    over rigid marshes and crackling reeds

                                                leaving the sterile land of stone

                                    pushing off           sailing on           at least alone

                        Over my shoulder I look back

                                    toward the wave-beat shore

                                    to waving hands

                                                high over feet lost in hot sand

                                                feet that have never left that monochrome shore

                        Over the gray hands I see

                                    shadows of things left behind

                                                books, pressed flowers, a song

                                                            a name gone faint on the wind

                                    leaving no melody to honey my mind

                        Over the rim to open water

                                    no shore             only light in two shades

                                                crystal water refracts and splinters light below

                                    above the circling water rim

                                                            iciclestars’ dim white glow

The next morning, our old teacher seems dull

            and none the better for the night whereas

            we have robbed, cheated death, and lived to tell 

Here, the teacher voices cheerily 

            lessons with such melody and brightness

            that I’m torn between this peaceful graybeard

            and the green-eyed outrider with no fear

Tonight I don’t stop to see the teacher

            but instead go with Jani once again

Still I wish I could tear myself in two

            and be with both – one to hold my heartache

                                          one to slash the rules and show what is fake

In three days, I stay once again to see

            the teacher who as before hums a tune

            and waits for me to say what I’m wanting

“It’s me again,” I say.  He whirls around

            as if he hasn’t noticed me at all  

            we both know he has but choose to ignore 

“Glad to see you,” he says brightly – no more

“Something happened,” I try to spark his interest

“Oh?” says he and maddeningly waits for me

“On the tower.”

“Ooooooh!” Now I certainly have his interest 

But again he waits for me to go on

“I saw something when I climbed to the top.”

“I am not surprised. It is quite a view.”

“How do you know!? You have not been up there.”

“Oh, I climbed it more than once in my youth.”

I am startled but also encouraged

“It’s a very tempting place, don’t you think?”

            He says this quietly like a secret 

            I suppose it is but I am doubting

            that he has really climbed it, so I ask

“What did you see when you reached the very top?”

“I saw my future,” he says seriously

“Me too,” I say in a voice so small it

            is a feather falling from that tower

            Jani falling fast beside it – nearing

                        brightness like a star between dark storm clouds

                                    then a feather rising on wispy wind

                                                farther off        floating down              toward ground again

“I’d like to hear more if you want to say”

            (I don’t know why but it feels safe to tell)

“When I was up there everything below

            got small, shrunk way down – I could hardly see.

I know for sure this town looked like a speck –

            even smaller than I thought it would be.”

“Yes, I remember seeing that. What else?”

“At the same time everything felt bigger

            and so did I. It reminded me of 

            the dreams I have when I can really fly.”

“Those dreams are wonderful!” he says and I

am once more amazed that he knows this too

“What else?” He leans toward me. He wants to know.

            (And I want to tell him this and much more

             Things I‘ve never told anyone before)

“When I was a kid, I used to believe

            that I could fly – even when I was awake –

            like a dream but better ‘cause I’m alert”

I stop to see his reaction.  Will he

             think I’m lying?  Will he make fun and laugh?

“Why did you stop just now?” is all he asks

            I pull back and raise my eyebrows.  I don’t 

            remember stopping.  I just don’t recall

He sees my trouble and tries to help me

“Tell me about the last time that you flew.”

“Okay,” I say reaching back claws and wings

I close my eyes and see blue – then black and

            bits of color that seem alive – focus

            harder I tell myself – a transparent

                        wing spreads out – black-veined from deep blue body

“The blue dragonfly!” I shout.  “I see him!”

“So beautiful,” sighs my teacher.  “Where are

            you going with this long-winged blue dragon?”

“Anywhere! Everywhere!  Away from here!”

Fragile wings fade and blur leaving the room

My eyes pop open as I hit the ground

“Ouch! Rough landing, eh?” the teacher chuckles.

“But you can take off anytime you want.”

“Gosh, I forgot I knew how to do that!” 

I say disregarding the rough return 

            that doesn’t matter compared to the flight

“Don’t try that from any towers,” he says 

            and knocks his fist against his lined forehead

“I thought I might jump when I was on top.”

“I know.  Me too.  It is very tempting 

            but our part that flies is not the same

                        as our heads that hit the ground and smash like

                        melons only with much more blood and mess.”

“I’ll remember that,” I say and chuckle

“What’s the part of us that can fly?” I ask.

“That’s a question each of us can answer

if we keep asking and don’t forget how.”

 “Do you still fly? Do you still remember?”

“Oh yes, but not so far as I once did.”

“Why not? It is better than on the ground.”

“Well, after time, flying is not needed.”

“How come? Tell me. I cannot imagine”

“Because far away is the same as here.”

“Not in this town!” I say with new fluster

“Forgive me, but for me it is just so.”

“I am different. I’m getting out of here.”

“Of that I am certain. It’s very clear.”

“I cannot wait. I’d leave now if I could.”

“No doubt.  So, keep practicing your flying.”

He rises now.  It’s time to go I see

I head for the door and turn back to see

if he is watching me this time.  He is.

I raise both my arms slow above my head

arch my hands like feather tips then pull down

strongly as I smile back at my teacher

and he mirrors my wings – his head thrown back

laughing, shaking long-haired silver feathers

I see he is no stranger to the sky

I see he has been there, the same as I

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So it goes with these two for winter months

I, a swinging pendulum between two lives—

The teacher, a warm flowered summer breeze

Jani, the storm in my cut-loose rigging

The teacher speaking of birds, stars and flights

Jani saying only what is needed

            too busy sailing full before the wind

and me – the landless gull dipping for scraps

                        bobbing behind in the green wake’s froth

One day, unlike other days, I am with

            my teacher long after dark – I know that

Jani waits for me out in coldest night

            but something holds me back -- I hesitate

            feeling an end to matters without names

My teacher’s words touch me from a distance

Tonight, my omen-heart stays with Jani

At last I say goodnight and rush outside

            where Jani waits as always, kicking snow

No more questions about the time within

            pass between us as we troll the town’s streets

On the way, Jani scouts for the usual 

            trouble – locks left open – unguarded goods

            but it is a night so calm and placid

            that all seems tucked safe from Jani’s dark mood

Down the road a classmate of ours hobbles

I recognize the limping gait – a boy

            we know from our classroom.  Jani picks up

                        the pace suddenly, and I wonder why.  

The boy isn’t our friend – too slow – too simple

            for the likes of us – but Jani pursues 

            one-pointed – slides out the knife with purpose

I run fast to keep up and hiss, “Jani!”

No response and now Jani runs out front

The boy sees us.  He tries to run away.

Like a tiger, Jani stretches long legs

to close the distance – knife blade shines one claw

The boy’s hoarse cry rasps in his fear-choked throat 

as Jani leaps on him with beast-like spring

                        makes one long slash    casts the boy off         and runs

The boy sits bleeding on the frozen road

            blood pure and bright red-spattering white snow

I see the gash in his shoulder above 

his heart as I stop and look from it to

                        Jani’s shadow falling into slippery dark

The boy gets up clasping hand to shoulder

His eyes lock mine in a question I have 

            never seen – like a dog cut for no reason

                        –careless wounding of a kindly beast

The boy screams out and I see the cry is 

            meant for me – he fears I too have a knife

That I, too, bring death on this twisted night

I shake my head ‘no’ but he’s already

            gone dragging crippled leg, assaulted arm

                        and all there’s to do is run for Jani

I catch up out of breath.  Jani slows down.

“Are you crazy!?” I pant toward his shoulders.

“He’s a weakling cripple!” Jani hisses.

“We’re really in trouble, Jani!” I blurt

“You’re safe.  I will swear you tried to stop me”

“But why do it?  He means nothing to us!”

“That’s the whole point.  He’s nothing!  He is dust!”

“It is too much, Jani! What’s after this!?”

“Nothing for me.  We’re all leaving again.”

“What do you mean leaving again and when?”

“In just a few days from what they tell me.

Something my father did this time at work.  

I may as well make my own trouble too

I’m one of them, you know! I’ll always be.”

“You can’t leave, Jani!  You’re my only friend!”

“That’s not true. You’ve got your precious teacher,”

            Jani grimaces in a sniveling voice

“And now I’ve cut that kid they won’t let you

            be with me for fear of what I might do.”

“They can’t stop me! I’ll say that boy attacked”

“It doesn’t matter!  Don’t you see?  I’m gone!

            Disappeared.  A flash and I’m dead.  Go on!

            Go home!  Get away from me, you coward!”

“Jani! You can’t mean what you are saying!”

“Get away! I’ll cut you too, you moron!” 

Jani’s knife, left-handed, is blood-bent ready 

“Jani,” I whisper backing away now

The knife slashes right and then left – just short . . .

It’s done, I see.  All there is left now is

            walk fast away from Jani which I do

but not before I hear a wracked hoarse sob

rising like curdled smoke from Jani’s throat

I turn back now, reaching out my right hand

“Get away!” Jani growls and cocks the knife.

This time I do and I do not look back

Background:

Childhood and youth aren’t all games and smiles, as most of us know. The protagonist faces the “split” between caring for both the teacher and for Jani. Jani, near the end, faces a situation over which control is impossible, with the exception of running away. When life events overwhelm, there are as many reactions and choices made than there are people on the planet. Think about your youth. Consider challenges and conflicts that you experienced. How did you choose to handle them? Was there a pattern in your choices?

All these questions and considerations break upon young people who are largely unprepared. Perhaps a bit of compassion is in order.

Exploration 1: What is it that makes the protagonist feel torn between Jani and the teacher?

Exploration 2: Is the conversation between the main character and the teacher at the early part of this segment appropriate? Should the teacher be so encouraging?

Exploration 3: What motivates Jani to harm the crippled boy at the end of this segment? Can such behavior be forgiven?