Will You Turn Me On?

The need to be turned on.

Can you help me?

Will you help me?

Can you turn me on?

Do you know what it takes?

Do you have what it takes?

Can you feel me, touch me, and enrapture me?

Can you leave me breathless, leave me limp, and leave me longing for more?

Perhaps you are confused.

Perhaps you need some guidance.

Take my hand and let me lead you,

Lead you inside my mind.

I promise to be gentle if you’ll do the same,

But not too gentle, now, for we both want to experience it all.

So come, my friend, my cohort, my lover, and I will show you how to

Turn me on.

The sun lightly touches the mother and child as they make their way across the lush field. In the distance stands an orchard, apples ripe with redness, red with ripeness, awaiting them. The child, her golden curls blowing gently in the breeze, giggles as she feels the soil between her toes. The mother, her golden curls blowing gently in the breeze, giggles as she sees the delight upon her child’s face.

A simple scene from life’s play. The child leaps into the outstretched arms of her mother and extends her arms in glee, finally touching the juicy fruit. Her small hand encircles one, grasps one, and pulls one free, and her smile…oh God, her smile, frees her mother from all earthly concerns.

“Bite it,” her mother says. “It’s alright, precious. Take a big bite, now.” And the golden beauty does so, and the juice explodes in her mouth, dribbles down that downy cheek, and another giggle of delight erupts from her mouth, rises to the sky, and carries across the land, and soon mother and daughter are laying underneath that apple tree, surrounded by laughter, surrounded by love.

That turns me on!

He walks alone most days. The rain puddles, the snows pile, the sun beats down, all background, and backdrop, for the solitary figure as he shuffles through his daily plight. His step is slower now, his stature drooped, his eyes downcast as he contemplates a life of promise transformed into a life of hopelessness.

How had it gone so wrong? A promising career, a heart filled with love, a bouncing baby girl, all gone, all darkened, all taken away in the blink of life’s eye, to be replaced with social services, emptiness, and no hope for the future.

You would expect him to be bitter, but bitterness is not his companion. You would expect him to lose his self-respect, but he still values himself and practices self-love. You would expect selfishness and an absence of compassion, but he spends his spare time volunteering in the service of those less fortunate than he.

That turns me on!

The day is done. It was a scorcher, by God, the wind blowing dust and sucking the moisture from her skin, as the prairie grasses bend southward and force her to lean into that damned wind on the way to her car.

The little ones have left the small school, and her peers all headed home for a tall, cold one before collapsing on the back porch as the shadows fall on another day. She is the last to leave, the first to arrive, and in her arms are the papers to grade at home as the television drones in the background and her own children demand her attention.

Bone-tired she is and damn if it’s only Wednesday, two days to go and the twentieth week will be done, the twentieth week of her twentieth year as a teacher, symmetry abounds and memories gather and there just doesn’t seem to be enough time to do it all.

And she wishes she had a man, that no-good, two-timing sonofabitch off with Martha to God knows where, leaving her with the three little ones and a mountain of debt, and wondering how she’ll ever pay the heating bill this winter.

But God she loves her job, the eager faces wanting to learn, filling her with joy each and every day of her life, and is there any other profession as great as teaching? Is there any other calling greater than helping others?

That turns me on!

He looks down upon the pristine river valley, untouched by commerce, greed, and development. One of the few remaining, this valley, and it brings tears to his eyes.

The bison roam, the antelope play, fish break the surface of the water for a last meal before twilight falls. So it was one-hundred years ago and so it will be again tomorrow, and the next, and the next, a reminder for all of what can be, what should be, and hopefully what will be.

Thunderheads form in the west and the wind ruffles his hair as he pitches his tent and starts his campfire, a solitary sentinel answering a call as old as mankind. He realizes, as few do, that man and nature are together in this struggle called life. He realizes, as few do, that we each carry a responsibility to be the guardians of the environment, and he takes his responsibility quite seriously.

He breathes deeply the gathering darkness, and closes his eyes and allows the sounds of nighttime to overcome him, to bring him peace, to allow him to once again find his core.

That turns me on!

Somewhere in the world right now, there is no color. Somewhere in the world right now, there is no division of race or creed, no hatred born from misunderstanding and fear. Somewhere in the world right now, man lives peacefully with man, reaching out to help one another in brotherhood and love.

I know it must be so. I know it must be possible. Surely where hope and desire reign then all things can come to pass. I believe that where there is hope there is love, and where there is love there is hope.

And that turns me on!

The need to be turned on!

Can you help me?

Will you help me?

Can you turn me on?

Do you know what it takes?

Do you have what it takes?

Can you feel me, touch me, and enrapture me?

2014 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)

Thank you, Lizzy, for sharing a story from your past that served as the inspiration for this creative writing piece.