The Man From The East Pt 1

Hope

“Hope is what makes us strong. It is why we are here. It is what we fight with when all else is lost.”

-Pandora, God of War 3

As I get ready again for my normal life,

I pray

a silent prayer,

that maybe life will change,

and there will be some form of change.

I do not know to which deity I pray to,

but just to one that will cause change, I pray....

I hoped by now that spontaneous events would take place,

but I lie here,

as though the world has taken me captive.

I feel like a drone,

built to do normal work

and be a normal person,

leaving me with a normal life

Though there is nothing normal about my job,

the lifestyle is normal.

I am a nurse at a mental health institution.

Oh, the joy...

But, today is different.

As I drive into work,

my radio is not on its normal station.

I have to take another way to work since there is construction,

and finally when I get to work, for some odd reason I park in another parking space,

and skip over the one I have been using for the past ten years...

There is something new on my list today.

I have a new patient coming in.

I think to myself, how great,

as if I do not have enough crazy to work with.

3:45.....

They bring him in,

wheeling him in on a dolly carrying a metal casket.

He looks to be dressed in his right mind,

but many that come in do.

They said they brought him here because this was the best place to store him.

Store him...

like he was a canned good.

They had everything possible on him:

a straitjacket,

a muzzle,

and a cold metal tomb.

When they finally placed him in his cell, they refused to take off his straitjacket.

What did this man do, I think to myself

That’s when curiosity tapped on my shoulder, whispering the crucial question:

What’s wrong with this... man?

I have met people that seemed like they were clothed in their right mind,

only to find out that they thought the Soviets were in control,

or that young children were nothing but a waste of carbon...

But this man

seems to be more peaceful than the rest.

My boss tells me not to go near him,

nor talk to him,

for he is the worst kind of crazy.

He infects others.........

Days go by,

but one day, curiosity begins to kill slowly, by baiting this cat in deep.

I volunteer to bring him food,

When I bring it to him,

he receives it with a soft thanks,

but before I leave, he says,

“I would like to play a game of chess. Can you help me make that happen?”

I reply,

“I will look into it.”

I quickly leave,

like his words are an infectious virus.

At the end of my shift, I ask my boss about the man’s request.

My boss reluctantly says yes.

He even gives the specific circumstance upon which the man can leave his cell.

The next day at lunch time,

he is brought out in handcuffs and a muzzle.

When they sit him down in the chair across from mine,

they take off the muzzle and handcuffs.

That’s when they bring the chess board with its pieces,

along with lunch.

Before he eats,

he prays,

which only vexes me more than I already am,

because he does not pray for freedom,

nor justice to be done on his situation,

but rather to enjoy his short stay here...

We begin to eat and play chess.

I cannot think straight, because of all the many questions I wish to ask him,

but I begin with the basics.

I ask, “What is your name?”

He replies, “Azariah, and yours, sir?”

At least he knows his name, and it matches the name on the paper.

“Isaac. Where are you from?”

“I am from the East, no place in particular....”

My worry comes back, and I begin to see maybe why they deem him crazy....

“You play chess a lot?”

“Not really, I just enjoy playing it with someone.”

“I have noticed you for some days now, and it seems you are dressed in your right mind. Why

have they brought you here?”

“What a bold question to ask a man who is in the last place he wants to be....”

I swallow hard.

“You do not have to answer that if you do not want to...”

“It is quite ok, I do not bite.”

He smiles, snickers, then proceeds.

“I am here because I have fallen in love with three things and have chased them to the ends of

the earth. When I finally found the last one, I realized that I should not hoard them.

Humility then paid me a visit, and told me congratulations on reaching the first objective, but it is time to move on to the next one.

Instead of moving, I stayed stagnate.

I sought out to dive in a deep relationship with wisdom,

but wisdom, had become action’s widow,

leaving me to learn I could not provide for Lady Wisdom, since I was only feeding her old cans

of dreams and unpursued passion.

That’s when I began to enact hope,

the foundation upon which we believe.

The Atheist hopes,

the Christian hopes,

the Muslim hopes,

the Scientist hopes......

All have hope,

for hope is in the heartbeat.

Hope is a loyal dog following you wherever you go.

Some people feed it,

some mistreat it.

But I decided to feed it

healthy meals.

I lavished it with an overwhelming income of perseverance.

When hope conceived puppies,

it was an abomination to laws of why we have hope,

to not give them away.

When I finally conceived hope,

I began to give it to people,

telling them that hope is not tangible

but unseen,

keeping our soul sharp and keen,

but some don’t feed it properly,

leaving it angry,

or worse, letting it rot into a dream differed.

Pity the man who has allowed hope to grow old,

and retire.

Failure is not measured by the tangible but by the fulfillment of hope,

but do not get it twisted.

Hope is farsighted,

Though, it can be blind.

Farsighted because it does not see now as the last judgement.

Blind because it does not see the present as reality.

Hope, when fed to people without it, will change a wimp into a man,

Hope, it is the reason why our hearts beat.

It is like the brain, producing voluntary actions

and involuntary actions alike.

Hope, when cooked long enough, will dry out spontaneous passion.

Mark my words my friend,

hope...

Is but the foundation of faith, and love.

Without hope,

one sees the darkness

and sorrow engulfs them.

It is hope, that ghost, that seems to spook us into action,

that pushes us over the edge into faith.

It is the building block upon which humanity treads on daily,

not realizing how fragile it is.....

Hope can be dashed like glass.

It is in hope you can be released from the chains of futility...

Hope can never be defined into a single definition,

but rather habitual feelings that promote action.....”

“I never saw hope in such a manner...”

“Of course not, because you have lived life in the expectancy that hope is a solid rock, calcified

into existence. Not realizing you cannot hoard hope by serving self. Have you ever wondered why life feels...normal? It is because you have built monstrous store houses of hope, but have not shared them. One day like the rich fool, you will see it be taken in an instant if you do not give it away. Also, it doesn't help that those in charge of the masses have only fed hope in small portions so that everyone cannot experience the freedom it brings.”

After his words,

it was time for him to go back to his cell.

He gave me a wink and asked,

“Same time tomorrow?”