Thursday, March 31, 2011


I saw a tiny bit of illumination in the sky. The clouds were pale and somber. Fitting..... It is I. It is Jonathon. wilkravitz is not enscribing my words. I am. I said the prayers. I said The Kaddish Prayer for the little one. What creed was she born into? I don't know. Who cares. But I said the words, the ancient Hebrew and Aramaic poetry, the prayer affirming believe in The World To Come. You want the basics? My God is near. I know not fear....That's it. I hope they are right. But how can it be any different for such a pure and innocent soul. I looked at her things. We all did, the little blankets, the lovingly knit outfits (although it is sometimes a chore keeping clothes on them), her fuzzy bear, her tiny dolly......And the other cherubs are that much dearer to us. Not that they were less before...But you know what I mean. The care taker picked up her body. It did not burn. It did not spontaneously ignite and dissappear. I don't know. I've never seen the death of a cherub. I don't know. I hope I never see that. Sarah's really torn up about this too. She was like Wendy. She was like their mother. I remember when they met. I remember when they hovered about her taking the tiny blood-kisses ,  so they could know her. She laughed. It tickled..... But they knew she was a good soul. And she loved them......The corpse will be buried in a special section of Laurel Hill set aside for children, orphans actually, with no family to rest beside them. It used to be a Philadelphia tradition. Wealthy families paid for it. And the tiny headstones are just as fine as any other childs'. Her name? We never really used one. Edith has a feeling that is was Mary. Now Baylah remembers certain things. She remembers 'Mary' from when she (Baylah, I mean)  first came here. And she is sure the little thing must have been French, for she wore a finely made dress, done up and trimmed in the French manner. Baylah knows. Her creator was French. So she is a child of that culture too..... Please, let me catch my breath.......Mary French.....Mary French.....That's what it will say....beloved daughter......beloved sister......Look, I don't want to talk about that part anymore. Baylah said she'd take care of the inscription. I am sure she will do things correctly. Papa sits quietly. Always with his aroma candle. He doctors them and puts in other things to change the smell. Sarah says he's trying to bring back something of his mortal world. Maybe a hearth fire from some time in the last ice age? Imagine the book he could write. So a big, check will be cut for an unnamed children's fund. And we will go on. Oh, I know I will continue to say the Kaddish Prayer for the next thirty days. How could I not. And I'll probably frequent the children's wards of certain hospitals, shedding drops of my blood so that they might live. I'll mix it in some sweet beverage. They won't know. I'm skilled at evading the nurses. And no mercenary doctor's bill will be forthcoming. Although I'm sure they will take the credit. Who knows. Perhaps they'll bill for it after all?........Now do you know why we take our vows? Now do  you know why we only cull the wicked? How could we do otherwise? How could we sink that low? True, true, true, there have been digressions. But let us pray that there shall be no more.............

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