wizard-of-the-pigeons

again? Are you still the man she loved, the man with his own interests and life,
or are you standing in the wings, waiting for her to take responsibility for your
happiness? Perhaps you should find your own life and resume it, so she can
approach you without fear of being consumed by you. Your terrible need for
her…”
The man was rising, getting off at this stop, without waiting to hear what
Wizard was saying to him. Such a thing had never happened before, and Wizard
gaped after him, reeling defiled and useless. The bus lunged and roared on
through its route.
He sat in silent misery. It began to get steamy inside from the cargo of warm,
damp humans. The seat beside Wizard sagged with weight, and he turned to find
that a slender Polynesian woman had settled in beside him. He turned away from
her and stared out the window.
A manicured finger jabbed him in the ribs. “Pay attention!” she hissed. He
knew that accent, but couldn’t place it. It was from the bad times. “I’ve got you
cornered now, and you are going to listen. So quit playing stupid with me. It’s
right in front of your nose, and you won’t see it. There is no time left for me to
be subtle and let you learn at your own pace. When you are irrational, you are
vulnerable. And another thing: You substitute tears for action. You want to know
what is wrong with you? You found out, a long time ago, that it is much easier
not to care. You pretended a distance between yourself and others until it became
real. You stopped hurting when people you loved got hurt. You threw your pain
away. There is a part of you that fears pain and wants to go back to that
numbness. But that is where your enemy is waiting for you.He will attack you
with yourself.”
She was rambling, he didn’t know about what, but he did know he had
nothing to give her. He didn’t want to hear her secrets and her hurts. He had no
balm for them. “Beg pardon?”
In a flash of self-preservation. Wizard turned an icy stare upon the little
woman. “Were you addressing me?”
She did not waver. “Yes!” she hissed. Another jab of the finger. “Pay
attention. You are throwing away your weapons because you think defeat would
be easier. You do not wish to take responsibility for yourself. You like to fumble
and limp and be helped along. Winning would change all that. So you choose to
forget that you are involved in a battle. You have turned your exposed back to
your enemy. When you are defeated, you will say, ‘There was never a war.’”