Ah my archangel pins me to truth, and caresses, and asks me questions. And I answer them; questions I have never been able to speak to before, and many that have never been asked. He makes new rituals by sliding on the old, and then I give him names, places, acts. I see the letters on the screen and I am at once horrified and something else unnamed.
Avalon’s rabbi (this phrase becomes cumbersome) knew us, particularly Magdalena, before San and Li, and some during although we lost…I would say we lost the touch, but daily I feel how the touch remained. We lost the words.
He has spoken to Avalon of the change at San’s hands, and I am reminded of how it was. I am at turns annoyed and grateful. But I also wonder why, with so many steps taken with him, all this that I offer freely – as freely as one may on the edge thus – I did not give to Li, nor Magdalena to San. It was never asked very directly, but I know Li, in any case, would have liked my name, and it was never given.
Was it instinct, to know one day he would break the trust? If I choose to think so, then I may give my trust to my archangel secure that any failing was outside myself. But I think this pretty; something the woman would believe.
In any case, he asks. I answer. I ask. He answers. I love him. It seems simple. And then afterwards, not simple at all.