Wonder, Touched and Kissed

         It had been an ordinary picnic lunch in the park, until a monster came out of the woods.


         No metaphor is as fast, or complete, as how the conversations of my friends stopped at the sight.  It was ghastly; a black and red streaked thing, standing taller on four skinny legs than our table.  Its narrow head swung toward us, hanging low on a thick, sinewy neck. 

         We were frozen, all eyes and dead shock.  From somewhere, we each remembered that being still is the way wild animals cannot see you. 

         It ambled towards us, slow and meek as a beaten dog. 

         We knew we should run, yell, something.  This was a city park.  We were young, strong, intelligent people. 

         But our bodies had shut down.  We were trapped, transfixed, by a slowly advancing, unthreatening, terrifying creature.

         What is it?  Does it want food?  To be petted?  What?


         A sharp intake of breath could have broken the spell, if we had not all seen the wings at once.

         We each scrambled with ourselves for some way to deny it, but there they were.  Two black, bat-like contraptions jutted from its shoulders.  I wondered if they had been broken too many times to fold smoothly, or the beast wanted to show them, just enough to not cause panic.

         Our thoughts came back to us then, but all together.  There was no me, or us, but there was both.  I realized it backwards; as my mind rebelled against what was happening, it pulled away from the collective, so I remembered I was separate from them.

        All of us were reeling with confusion.  Thoughts spun and collided like a school of drunken fish.  Parts of me were aware this could be the single most fantastic thing that ever happened to us, while other parts flailed helplessly against everything.  With no idea what this was, it was somehow familiar.  I felt homesick, with deja-vu.  Like I was having the best dream of my life, but knew I would wake, and curse it for not being real.

        Sadness for this creature's wretched state slammed me like tsunamis.  But it was more than that.  I felt rage, and loss.  Something terrible had happened here.  Something world-wounding had made this thing a monster.

         It walked straight up to us, showing no fear or aggression.

         Our grasping intellects reached a silent consensus this was some sort of bizarrely large, (winged) black dog.  It was the easiest match with the beast's demeanor, to keep our rational minds from strangling us.

         It stood close, but not too close, and slowly offered its head.

         We began to relax, as it continued to stand with the patience of a well-trained, lost pet.  There was a very doggy-like, woebegone look in its liquid-brown eyes.

         Our hearts softened.  Our hands began to reach out.  After all, what do you do when a friendly, if ugly, dog approaches you?

         We scratched clumsily behind its pointed ears and trickled fingertips down its neck.  Its eyes slowly closed and opened, and a sigh of contentment puffed from between whiskery lips. 

         That breath made him no longer a monster.


         We caressed the lines of his long, narrow face, and tickled his velvety chin as his head lifted.  Hesitation melted, as feelings of warmth and gratitude filled us.  We forgot ourselves.  Our hands wandered along smooth fur, to the ridges of his wings.  They perked at our kind touch, billowing soft as feathers beneath eager exploring fingers. 

         Each of us lapsed into lovely, forgotten places, where make-believe could be truer than life.  We were children with a wondrous imaginary pet, real enough to touch, and kiss, and feed bits of lunch.

         The parts of my mind that would not accept what was happening shut down,  and something deeper began to thrum.  A rhythm coursed through me, something timeless, and filled with warm, bright light.  I threw my arms around his strong neck, buried my face in the long flowing hair, and knew this was something magic.  Something Sacred.

         I gave myself over completely.  Separations between us dissolved; we were all simply being.

         Images and impressions came, insubstantial but penetrating. 

         I was flying, unencumbered as a wisp of smoke.  Free to go where the winds took me; always where I wanted to be. 

         There were green and flower-painted fields.  Lush forests stretched beyond the horizon, even as I soared higher.  I swam through clear skies, with air so pure I could drink it.  Light dazzled through clouds, as white pillars towered above me.

         But now it was gone, and longing for it burned like I never knew pain could exist.  The whole world had slowly shattered, but pieces like him, covered in ashes, still remembered.

         What had seemed dark and frightening only moments ago was pure joy.  The wretched condition of this creature was a reflection of others, not him.  The abuse he had suffered proclaimed the need for love and wonder, and made lack of them throb like phantom limbs.

         Once, there had not been such doubt to gouge this hide, or disbelief to shred these wings.  Long ago, people had always welcomed his kind, with joyful gratitude.  Some had gone to great lengths to find them, with hearts open and no fear of this gift he was sharing with us now. 

         Now many are full of fear, which makes them hurt.  The pain makes them afraid.  So they beat him, and called him evil, until he was dark and broken and rarely seen.

         Yet he still tried.  Sometimes, he's found people who looked for him without knowing it, and helped them.

         This breathing, nuzzling sufferer could still love, and inspire compassion.  He was still a light, even when burning in darkness.  He kept himself alive through the pain, because he must light others, to help pull the darkness back.

          The sheer energy accompanying that idea was like a lightning strike.  I thought my brain would split in two, but it felt more enmeshed, complex and focused.  My eyes flew open.  At the same moment, the warm, furry, flesh drifted out of my arms.


         The rest had already pulled away, sitting back and murmuring uneasily to each other.  Some were crying softly.  Another said how stupid we had been.

         Wild animals only approach when they're sick.  Little kids were right over there in the playground. 

         We needed to tell someone.

         The spell broken, our friend melted back into the trees, as quietly as he had come.

         Ordinary thoughts swarmed back, jumbled together; a rampage that made my eyes burn.  Reluctantly, I turned back to the others.

         Tears dried, they were busy rationalizing away what had happened to them.  For a beautiful, glowing moment, we had thought as a collective; communicated beyond words, or concepts.  Now, I wasn't even sure they had shared it.  They each spoke as if an episode had been described to them.

         "What was that?"  My voice was level, despite the turmoil I was feeling.

         They shifted awkwardly.  They looked to each other, without looking at one another.

         "It was..."

         "You know..."

         "Just a dog, or something," one blurted.

         Squirming, with stone-faced neutrality, no one agreed to or challenged the statement.

         "That was no dog."  Passion welled inside me like a geyser.  I had never been so sure of anything.  "He was as big as a horse.  Bigger.  He had wings!"

         Oh God.

         I stopped dead, not feeling their flinches at the unwelcome truth.  They meant nothing now.  Worse than nothing.

         They had seen wonder, touched and kissed it, but still needed explanations to make it real.  They rationalized away what had been right there, because it could not exist. 

         They were part of the growing darkness, demanding light and truth not exist, because they are intangible.

         "No!"  I sprang from the picnic table, and fled into the woods.  I didn't hear if they called after me, but no one followed.

         My tears made the trees and ground run like they were painted in water, but I was being carried by a river finally flowing free.  "Come back!  Oh please, come back!"

         I stumbled over roots, and the name.  I had read it, but never really heard it spoken.  How would the Greeks have pronounced it?  How did the muses, or the gods?

        How could I, to bring the wonder back?


         "Pegasus!  PEGASUS!"