Show me your monster

She sees the future and despairs. Who will grasp the burning brand and chase away the monsters? Behind serrated squares of sateen soaked in scarce spiced syrup, her eyes turn inward to spirit. She sees the future semaphoring to the present, don’t go there, turn around. Who will listen to the sybil? Her calm belies the tumultuous message she transmits to all who will hear. /p>

They crowd her, they honour her words but understand nothing. They like to know she is there. They love the interest in their town she brings. They adore the money pilgrims pour in their coffers. Their ears and hearts are locked in a vault of their own making. How long can she continue to withstand the buffeting of their ignorance? A long apprenticeship to the crone who had chosen her as successor culminated in a conscious spectacle performed before elders to prove her worth. Her pronouncements were recorded for truth seekers to affirm. As they did and still do./p>

I remember her as a child. I recall her young limbs flailing as she fell out of the tree. Who knew she would become the centre of the universe to us, those who gather to listen, to learn, to carry the precious drops of wisdom to the world? Not I./p>

And still the monsters come. And still we refuse to change. And still she sits in her trance, hoping one day we will hear. I re-soak the sateen squares linked together with the string of sustained belief she blessed before the session. /p>

Perhaps I will sell these squares later to those credulous beings for more money than they are worth. They devour everything of hers. They would devour her if they could. I protect her from the monsters. That has to be worth something. No? My eyes are turned outward to the masses. /p>

Show me your monster

Her eyes turn inward to the spirit and somehow, she sees me as I really am. She rails against the direction I have taken. Shackles are broken and she slips my emotional chain. I am the monster she has to destroy. It is written in her sybil record. If only I had taken the time to consult its pages. My sister, my seer.