a cold hell
the clouds seemed
to be holding
the sun back
like a slave
with chains of lead
After a night
of heavy snow
the day tried to make
a comeback
and failed
It was 11:00 AM
and dark as evening
and since it was
also cold as hell
they concluded they
were in hell
"But hell is not
forever, mother," he
said. "I'll make it outside
of hell. In a place where
every soul has a home
and no one freezes in the
streets like us."
It was a childish promise
that came from
a child
Unlike his mother and her
purple lips
and faded eyes that looked
towards his face
but not at it,
he was blazing with life
and with rage
He shook his tiny fist
at life's own
cruelty
and cursed the coldness
of the gods
It was still pathetic
in comparison
with the coldness
of humans
but on humans he
gave up
a long time ago
There was only one human left
in his insignificant
life
and he was smart enough
to understand that
he'll have to say
goodbye to her
as well
soon enough
Actually,
today
The food he found in
the snowy, frozen
trash cans along
the alley
wasn't enough to feed
a sick rat
He found two
banana peels
a can of soda with a
drop left
a few food wrappers
stained with
sauces and salt
a surgical glove
and plenty of surgical
masks
like everyone wore
and discarded all the time
thanks to the pandemic
He placed the glove
on his hand
for warmth
Several times he
called mother's name and
she would not
answer
He could see the blue
veins across her
gaunt face
He screamed her
name
but all she could do
was stretch a skeletal
hand that would join his
"I'll make it outside
hell," he said again. "I'll cross
the border. South of this hell
there's a place where
people don't cut your
fingers if you steal food. I've
heard this
plenty of times. So many times
that I believe it, mother.
I'm going there.
But... I won't be able to make it
if I have to carry you
along, won't I?"
An answer was not
needed
Mother still held
on to his hand
"I am going, mother. I owe
it to myself. If I die,
I want to die trying. Else how
could I rest in peace?"
Those weren't a child's words
It was ambition
and hunger
speaking through him,
raging
through his veins
Just thinking about it
made him as warm
as mother was cold
It was decided.
He would go
But he would leave
a fraction of
this insane warmth with
his mother
in her dying moments
He stood
and walked a few paces
away
Removed the surgical glove
from his hand
Pulled the front of his
ragged pants
down and pissed
inside the glove
and tied its opening
at the wrist
neatly
It looked like a bloated
hand
and it was warm
Steaming against
the cold air
He placed it into
his mother's hand,
its fingers intertwining hers
and kissed her
gelid face
for a final time
and was
gone
The coldness of humanity
had taught him
something
indeed
***
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