i am in tbilisi. i walk along the narikala fortress. i think about my back. i see a priest ring a bell a few steps up. as the bell tolls, pain shoots through me in a cluster of angry pulsars. i lift my hand to capture the priest’s hand on the clapper, and a ribbon-bruise envelops my lower abdomen. i press the shutter and think about the energy i generate through my broken spine.
i look at the century-old stairs carved on the other side of the fortress. i stretch my arms and my legs, and the tips of my hips sting and tingle like glitter tassels dangling from tricycle handles. a cat meows at my feet. his fur is matted and full of knots. i want to pick him up but my body won’t allow it. i walk around the st nicholas church and find an open door. i peek in and there is the priest, surrounded by candles, chanting ominously in a language i do not understand. his voice echoes against the walls and resonates in the flesh surrounding my pelvis. every note is a baritone reminder of the aches that follow me.
i step out and look at the church’s walls. i see a small lizard dart and disappear through a crack. as i kneel down to inspect further i gasp in horror at the millions of hands pinching the tender skin around my vertebrae. for a moment i cannot move. i forget about the lizard, about the crack. tears fill my eyes but this isn’t the work of god. i look around in search of a place to sit. i find an empty bench by a wooden house. as i get closer to it, i see bees buzzing about several beehives right behind it. i wonder if a bee sting could distract me from my lumbar woes, if one pain could supplant another. i choose not to take the risk.
i walk toward the stone arch exit. an old woman dressed in layers of black approaches me and tries to sell me a postcard of the virgin mary. is that what it comes down to? can this papered mother of jesus soothe me? will i inspire divine wrath by dismissing the old woman’s gesture? all of the world’s evil eyes are already fixated on my lower back, and my pain feels as crippled as these walls. there is no need for temporary faith. i take a breath and prepare my descent.