for those who are UnKnown--after beckett

"you weep, and weep, for nothing, so as not to laugh, and little by little . . . you begin to grieve."

endgame, beckett


sometimes you cry because you're supposed to.  at funerals.  at sentimental love scenes in movies.  when you fall on your bike and scratch your face.  when your heart is broken.  when you're three and you can't find your mother at the market.  you cry.  you may even weep.  you may burst into bawling because it's what you do.  you get that tightening in the back of your throat.  the tingling in your nose.  the welling of tears that threaten rain.  and the tears teeter on the edge of your lower lid.  and you resist--which only makes it worse.

and you hope someone will make you laugh.  you hope there will be a witty joke or a happy remembrance or an arriving mother or just a distraction to stop the ensuing weeks of rain--the tingling in the nose.  you want something to divert the tears.

and then you laugh.  you laugh well.  and you think that will stop the tears.  it does.  for a moment.  but the laugh has made the tears fall.  and somehow the combination of tight throat and laughter that rises from your middle has caused you to cry.  and the dam breaks.  and you find your nose running and tears running and you're chuckling--or smiling or guffawing.

and then you are silent.

pause

and if you give the silence time, you wonder.  you wonder at what you are.  at why you are crying or laughing.  or both.  and if you give it long enough, the silence lets you ask questions.

and so the match begins.  and in only a moment you have asked enough questions to fill a thousand-thousand books.  and sometimes you have the courage to wait for answers.  sometimes you're not afraid of the silence into which the emotions have hurled you consentless (or senseless or spent).

and you wait.

pause

and there is time.  there is all the time you have to wait.  to go about your business while you wait.  to live in a state of waiting silence.  to listen.  to not be afraid that the players have forgotten their lines or forgotten to show up or forgotten.

and in the silence you remember grief.  grief that smells like wet and shoes and salt and cotton candy.  and because of the silence you give in (or you resist).  and you grieve because the volley of questions is unending or the volley of answers are unsatisfactory or the volley of silence is unalleviated.

silence.  silence.  silence.  silence.

take off your shoes.  your hat.  look around you.  measure the space.  find its edge.  sit or stand or walk or dance.  listen to the sounds--sometimes it sounds like words.  sometimes it sounds like babble.  sometimes it sounds like weeping.

but wait.