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Submitted by: maura_ea On: June 30th, 2005
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Artist's Comment:
I FELT NUMB WITH DISBELIEF as I watched her cough and choke on her own blood. She lied on the ground with her head slightly elevated on a tightly bunched jacket someone had shed for the cause and handed me, though I don’t remember who or when. One of her hands gripped a gaping entrance wound at her abdomen, the other laid slack at her side, limp from the shoulder joint down because all of the ripped tendons now bunched and coiled away from each other and deeper into her body. I didn’t know what to do, and kneeled beside her and watched her struggle with another mouthful of blood. The spit-thickened mixture burst from her full-lipped mouth on another cough, and stained her ivory cheek a brilliant rouge. I made to wipe it away, reaching out with a handful of my skirt as if the act of clearing the blood from her face would stall the inevitable. But she stopped me before I could, reaching out with her one good hand which was still strong, gripping mine with confidence of her fate.
“He was right…” She began with a joyless smile, her teeth pink with the blood she tried to purge from her body. “It was meant to be.” Another bullet whizzed by above our heads, striking the concrete blocks the outer wall was constructed of, and I leaned over her to shield her face and broken body from the shower of cement dust and piercing concrete shards.
“It’s going to be all right,” I assured her, holding tightly onto her hand in return. “There are forces stronger in this world than his spoken words.”
“Yes, but there will never be a force stronger than his will.” She stated, her smile fading as another tremor shook her body, and she let go of my hand to grip the wound at her belly. She fought to catch her breath, and as I heard her lungs drown in her own blood I fought to hold onto my tears. They would do no good, they never had.
“Why wont you let me help you?” I asked again, my heart willing my body to do what it will to keep her alive. “Please let me help you…”
The haze caused by pain and loss seemed to clear from her eyes, and she seemed intent on my face. “It will be for nothing, all of our struggles, all the lives we stole, all the time we lost. It will be for nothing if you give yourself over to it.” She whispered, causing me to lean close to hear her reasoning. Her eyes engulfed my vision, eyes the color of red wine and flecks of gold, eyes so like my own it was as if we were the same. I could no longer hear the shots raging around us, or the cries of the men. I couldn’t feel the fear or the hatred. I could only feel her. Feel her love for me, and although I tried hard to hold onto my tears soon my vision swam and a solemn tear dropped onto her blood dyed cheek. It mixed with her blood and cut a path through the dried and crusted life force that had smeared across her face.
“I’m not ready yet.” I confessed with a broken sob.
Leaving the wound to it’s own demons, she reached to touch my face, cradling my cheek within her slender hand. I leaned into it, so hungry to feel her gentle touch before she was gone. “No one is ever ready, until it’s time.”
“Who decides when it’s time?” I murmured so silently as my head dropped in defeat. She pushed herself up suddenly with unknown strength, and her lips touched my forehead softly as though she was putting me to bed. Though I couldn’t hear her any longer, I felt her lips move against my sensitive skin, and knew what she had mouthed.
“You do."
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