The Gates of Hell

I have been fortunate enough in this life time to visit the Stanford campus, the Rodin garden, and see, touch, experience the Gates of Hell.

Over the years since, my belief system has gone through a gyration or two. The location, meaning, implication, existence, grade for, inclusion to Hell has also changed.

This morning I woke in the dark. It was hot, dry, still. The ever-present hum and buzz from something next door damaged the silence like a diamond against a mirror. The flaw repeated, changing in space as your view changes.

I was breathless. Unable to breathe is more accurate. I tried but there was nothing inside me. A hallow once filled with heart, lungs, life. A place that gave me life. Now a chasm determined to swallow up that same life.

Not long ago this chest was in motion, breathing fast and deep from excitement, exertion, ecstasy, the effort of making love. This heart beat wild and strong, hard enough to be felt by two, seen on the surface. Not long ago, every part of this body was there with you, for you, no other intention. Just you.

All of that is gone now. There is no motion, no movement at all. Just the buzz and the pressure on my bones. The feeling of being pressed down, pulled down into the earth to disappear under foot for you and yours to walk on.

I kept expecting to die – not breathing should bring that on. Instead I simply lay there mentally struggling to move. Move my eyes, my fingers, a toe. Every action was painful, slow and exhausting. Finally I gave up and closed my eyes, hoping to see a memory of you.

Instead, I  saw the Gates of Hell. Not as I had seen them before. I saw them this time from the inside. The view of one that has passed through. No matter what I believed before, I now know what hell is like. I know where hell is. I know what it takes to get there.  I know what the torment is, the pain, the stench and the hopelessness of getting out.

This is hell, right here, right now. The gates are closing behind me.

A V