Regrets and Resolutions

It has been days, has it been days? Yes...I believe so, days since I collapsed upon the road into friendly arms, and my recovery has been painfully slow. My body refuses to heal as it should, the plague in my system blending with poisons past, and it keeps me from taking full advantage of what rest usually provides me. Still, considering every inch of me has been touched by my recent experience, I am doing better than I should be, though...my mind is still a jumble of images, faces and unmatched names.

My rescuer, is both patient and desperately impatient with me. I can see how he fights with himself in exactly what it is that exists or perhaps more accurately, what does not exist between us. He struggles with his traditions, as I do mine, the unseen barriers and unmet requirements that blockade us from each other, all the while I am trying to unravel just what is that happened to me, and put right the disjointed and fractured memories. I wish we had more time to sort things out between us, but time is something that is drifting away from me like so much smoke on the breeze.

I am dying. I have come to terms with this, and yet, for some reason, I am not as desperate as one might think to prevent this seemingly inevitable end. If this is what the Storm Father has planned for me, who am I to fight it? If I am not His soldier, I am nothing. The vials that I gather for the purpose of keeping myself functioning, and helping to ease the suffering of those around me, are working less and less effectively, for not just me it seems. The longer the illness has to ravage your body, the more damage it does in shorter time. Soon, the vials will do nothing at all, and my lungs will fill and I will drown where I lay as the fever cooks the last of my mind.

But in spite of it all, I will not go peacefully. No, that is simply not my way. I will die on my feet, cutting down demon after demon, until one finally gets the better of me. To the last, I will do what I do, and be what I am, and be damned because of it if I must, but I refuse to die to Her whim on the flat of my back.