Unholy Trinity: We Are Loved by Cameron Edwards
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
We are loved, and the sea comes rushing in, all at once, vodka-clear and terribly cruel. It desires to invade us, to envelop, caress and consume us, to become the last thing we ever feel, ever know. There is an obtuse grandeur to it–the onrushing towering tide–but also a fundamental, particular care that can only be found in love and hatred and the poisonous, gorgeous nectar-sickly-sweet pit where they intertwine. It’s beautiful that something so awesome conspires to deliver us suffering. We are going to be loved, loved oh so crushingly dearly, loved in and through and by our torment.
We are loved, and Prometheus suffers on his rock, suffers with his strewn innards and displaced viscera, because he gave us a gift. He is tortured, day and night and unceasing aeon, because he loved us as only a god could: love without expectation, without possible requital. There is nothing we can do, nothing we can burn or light or cauterize, that will ever justify an eternal sacrifice. We cannot even hear him scream, anymore. So we are left here, alive and warm, safe from the terrors of the night, because they are all called to torture one shuddering never-corpse.
We are loved, and the stars’ soft green light infuses our souls with wonder and awe and cold fear. We do not have a say in the matter: to be trapped down here, under the dark sphere of night, is to be in a position of kneeling obeisance. We will receive that which is intended for us, that which has been crafted in burning, roiling celestial cauldrons. The ruinous truth is that a stellar symphony nightly proclaims its unceasing love for you, and you will never escape its sight. The sky above is not uncaring, and it never, ever, blinks.
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.