Operculum
Submitted by Knocking from Inside Blog
The angels wrap newborns in unfeeling flesh, blind eyes, deaf ears. They leave an opening to the heart, a misplaced fontanel. Over it they place an operculum of horn like the translucent door of a snail’s spiral shell. The soul grows. One day it pushes the operculum aside and crawls out naked into the air and wonders where it came from.
They say the gate of horn is the true gate. The soul crawls from the door of horn in search of truth. The soul crawls from the darkness inside the flesh. From the spiral house of forgetting. From the mindless songs of vegetable growth.
Where did it come from before that, asks the soul. What did the angels make me forget when I was sealed inside the doors of perception, the windows of flesh, the house of forgetting. Where did I come from that I remember
an empty snail shell
rests on a clean gravel path
sounding of ocean
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