Forever Wrong Upon The Throne
It is late.
The time is somewhere between the witching hour and when the devil stalks the land yet the pull of slumber has yet to be felt. The darkness envelopes me with only the silver burnish of moonlight to pick out the objects around me and ensure they retain some familiarity.
It is cold but I do not object, content to sit with the window open and allow the night air to infiltrate my domain. The cold touch of the darkness soothes me and a calm has settled upon my person. I am sat, alone, yet I have no concerns, for the day has proved fruitful, as always, in my quest for fuel. Although not sated I am neither in desperate need nor bloated from my repeated extractions.
There is room for more, there is always room for more but I do not feel that driving need to acquire more. Instead the stillness and the calm engulf me as I sit here and look out from my elevated situation, through the wide open window and across the garden and the fields beyond.
My still alert eyes detect no movement of beast nor breeze. The trees still as if in silent salute. The birds that so often fly past are nested for the night and in the distance the intermittent hoot of an owl is a reminder that although I am sat alone there is still something out there. It is at times like this, when the freneticism has subsided, the hurly burly of the day’s cut and thrust has given way to this rare and unusual state that I remember.
My gaze remains steady as I look out across those undulating fields, fields so similar to the ones that we used to run through didn’t we? Where are you? Where are you now?
Why are you not sat beside me, king and queen like we used to when we planned our lives all that times ago? You must forgive me. I have not thought of you as often or as deeply as I ought to have done but I have been about other things.
I know you understand. I know you recognise that the demands made upon me would be beyond others and that I must attend to those demands. I know that you realise that to dwell too often would leave me weakened and that must not happen but moments such as these, when I find myself feeling freed of my burden then I am able to reach out to you, wherever you may be.
Although I do not often permit it, you remain etched into my memory and I know with the certainty that the world will not stop spinning, that you will always reside in my memory. Yet, I must confess, that is not enough. Should a moment or an instance bring to the surface an element of our past I am bound to push it away, cast it deep into the recesses of my mind and place it behind bolted door and fearsome gate.
There is not hope for me to do anything else, for to indulge in recollection at such times would distract me too greatly from my endeavours. I know I ought not to do it but I must do so. For such moments I am moved to seek your forgiveness from your benevolent self in the full knowledge that I am told that I deserve none.
It is now when I sit on this chair and besides yours, ‘our thrones’ as we once called them, that I am able to allow your memory to consume me. I reach out with my hand and expect that somehow I will feel your cool hand slide into mine just one more time yet there is nothing.
Just that absence that has remained constant no matter how hard I labour to fill it. We would sit side by side wouldn’t we and look out across those fields through which we ran to our secret places, those sanctuaries and idylls dotted throughout our kingdom?
We issued our declarations as one, formulated our ordinances of governance for the betterment of our subjects and did so with great gladness. Do I miss doing so together or have I just been conditioned to believe that I miss it?
Where are you? Why will you only show yourself as memory ? Why will you not come back to me ? You could do so, even if as a shade to haunt me as I sit amidst this encompassing darkness. Do you remain distant from me to punish , joining the legions of the traitorous? Have they turned you against me? Perhaps you do and I am told that such punishment is only right for one such as I.
I know myself for what I am and I seek to purge that which grips me each and every day through the frenzied application to my endeavours in the hope that they will allow me to be granted absolution and you will return. I swear, I swear by all that I am, I would accept these labours at a tenfold if only to see you once again, hear your voice and look upon you as you take my hand as you always did. We joined as one and we were better for it were we not? Come back to me? Return. Sit beside me once again and let us find that which we once had and should always have.
I sit in the darkness as I say these thoughts aloud, my low and steady voice seeming distant and disembodied. I pause and wait expecting you to answer but there is no response.
Come back to me because for all that I have done and for all that I am about to do, without you I will sit forever wrong upon the throne.
And I must be right.
4 thoughts on “Forever Wrong Upon The Throne”
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I love the image for this article <3
I also inadvertently came across almost this exact wording from a poem by Richard Lowell dating back to 1844 called "This Present Crisis", the crisis at the time being slavery.
The line specifically referred to is:
"Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne"
Martin Luther King referenced it in one of his speeches:
"We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice.
We shall overcome because Carlisle is right. "No lie can live forever." We shall overcome because William Cullen Bryant is right. "Truth crushed to earth will rise again." We shall overcome because James Russell Lowell is right. "Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne. Yet that scaffold sways the future.” We shall overcome because the Bible is right. "You shall reap what you sow." With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to speed up the day when all of God's children all over this nation – black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old negro spiritual, "Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank God Almighty, We are Free At Last."
The wrong on the throne in this instance appears to be lies and tyranny, and being put to death on the scaffold is truth. I just found that an interesting link to the notion of being "wrong upon the throne". In the context of the article I've always understood it as being wrong because one who should have been there to share it with you was not. In another way I now understand it as the possibility of being unable to sit honestly and truthfully upon that throne without them.
Beautiful…
And this is how I was hoovered after 13 years by “my” narcissist. I wanted to be hoovered by him. He chose the right way. Nothing was said, nothing was promised, but everything was conveyn.
Knowing what would happen and what the end would be, we cursed the time and repeated the past for a moment. A total of 1.5 years of contact. Including many months of approaching – for 2 weeks in which we really managed to lie – and then more months of devaluation.
Was it worth it? Yes. Not. Yes. Not. Yes… Yes.
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Ah, this idealization. I used to be so similar, but then I ruined everything (I got pregnant – I’m guilty). Since then, I always felt Her breath on my back, I could not match Her anymore. I kept going lower and lower.
She is everything. It has everything. Sometimes I wondered if it was us, women who gave Her our best qualities, or if he found some of Her qualities in us.
His ideal is mixed up. He sees it in every “important” woman in his life and in none of us at the same time.
– You were important, until you broke it.
– You know you’ll never find Her? Someone like that does not exist, is not human. You will search until you die…
– I know. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t you…
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The first narcissist I was with for 11 years and we met in our teenage years idealizes completely differently. He created an ideal on the basis of me.
– That Joa is gone. She died. You know you are idealizing?
– Of course. I am well aware of this.
During all the years after me, he was with dozens of women, he maintains a “friendly” contact with many. Anyway, he is adored by hundreds of people who seek his favor (erotic, romantic or friendly, depending on gender). Four women were romantically significant in his life. I was the first of the important ones. Two after me, he said the same killer compliment: “You ALMOST replaced her.” I curled up inside when I heard that. How these women must hate me. Me, but not me. The fourth is now in the golden age. She blended into him completely (he is so impressive that many copies of him, especially male ones, circulate around him). I believe they will be together for at least a few years. At the time, being I’m in peace and quiet.
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Me – this is how I end my day almost every day. I love the darkness, the silence when everyone is asleep. When I’m completely alone with my thoughts. This is my favorite part of the day. This is my daily goodbye. But yes, I also idealize in my own way…
Beautifully dark.
Favorite article of all, the more I grasp understanding of it, the more meaningful it becomes. It is symbolic to me of the sadness I have for the narcissists even as I understand they do not have the same sadness for themselves, and they cannot, which perpetuates the sadness I feel for them. This doesn’t mean GOSO and NC are not warranted, of course, those being always wise. But it helps me understand both their state and my own more fully, and that is beneficial.