L'aura del Campo

Cymbeline [54]

Cymbeline

Why read Shakespeare, we ask. So many other simple straight-forward stories. Why did we choose this one. What were we thinking.

We still don't know.

I was raised in a fog of snow mist and ice, a gathering of wisps that could not be possessed. I chased rainbows that came out on soft days, locking the hurt in a closet

Then sunlight banished the gloom as it had done before and will do again. I would have healed if it weren't for the sunburn of drama coming in the front door, stirring up a tempest exiting to the lot where the hopeless parked with a bottle to drown their depression till sundown quenched their mania.

So much confusion. So many stories and characters and utter nonsense. The lies, the lies, the lies. They died one-by-one in the cleansing.

Who was king-of-hill, who was the queen-of-evil — no one knew for sure. The quicksand sucked at us all and we got lost in the quagmire.

I moved to the desert, hid, snug between mountains. Sighed in relief as I watched the sun set in silence. I prayed for misty days and rainbows.

I had left the drama behind. I never bother to read Shakespeare.

© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.54] (23.april.2021)

Prompt: a Shakesperian play. I chose "Cymbeline", a later work that's very entangled with typical tantrums, evil and revenge. I describe my own experiences and views based on surviving homelessness.

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