Act 1
My Grief Conversation with Jesus
Scene:
(I am sitting, slouched on a dingy, upside down milk-crate, in a dark and sullen dead-end alley. A few exposed incandescent light bulbs, dangling from the sides of the run-down buildings, emitting only splintered orbs of light.
A steady rain falls, drenching me to the bone. Matted hair sticks to my forehead permanently, and my clothes cling to my paling skin without release. Pools of water strewn along the alley way cast Infrared rainbows that dance, as the black drops pound them unmercifully into submission. This is the only movement in the alley.
I stare at nonsensical graffiti. My thoughts are violent and raging, yet I remain emotionally listlessly in my tormented posture, unmoved and deadened. A frozen sneer dwells on my face. Angst and Anger rise from my bluish, cold skin like steam from hot pavement after a storm.)
(Jesus enters from the street. He steps in the alley way. I sense His presence but refuse to turn around…)
Me: (spewing) ‘bout time!
Jesus: (silent)
Me: (irritated and enraged) I said, it’s a-bout time!
Jesus: (silent)
(Jesus approaches me, but I remain seated and with my back to him.)
Me: Nice! You’ve come all this way to say nothing…typical…
(I rise from my makeshift chair and walk up to Him, yet my eye line never reaches above his chest. My eyes dart to and fro, and I fidget nervously.)
Me: This is why people hate you! This is why people despise you!
Jesus: Why?
Me: huh? (taken aback by His question and His voice.)
Jesus: Why? …Why do they despise me? Why do they hate me?
Me: You leave them alone! You abandon them! You only come around when you feel like it, when you think its right or needed! You show no concern for me or my emotions…You don’t even care about what I’ve gone through…how could you…?
(trails off..)
Jesus: (sharp rebuke) I not only know the day, but the exact second you walked in to this alley. I was here when it happened. I walked in to this alley with you…
(I interrupt.)
Me: So what???!!!
Jesus: (silence)
(I can feel his eyes pierced my soul to its melancholy core.)
Me: (desperately screaming) You left me here!
Me: You left me when I needed you most! People don’t do that when they care about someone.
Jesus: I didn’t abandon you. You knew right where I was; I invited you to follow me. You made a conscious choice.
Me: I wanted you here…
(trails off…)
Jesus: I spent weeks, months, sitting right beside you. I sat next to you on that wooden produce crate over there. I watched over you as you slept and mourned your losses. I sang you to sleep at night. I listened to every broken word you said, and I encouraged you…without condemnation.
Me: Well…why did you leave? It wounded me…I was so disappointed…You…
(Jesus smiles softly and turns toward the street again)
Me: (pleading) Where are you going? Why are you leaving me again?
(Jesus stops, turns his head slightly.)
Jesus: I am acquainted with Grief…I don’t live here.
(Exit Jesus to the street. End Scene.)
The Precipice of Wes 