Scheherazade

He ties and unties, always ties and unties. He ties and remembers the treason, the pain deep in his heart. Then, he unties and thinks of the future, and hope surfaces. He ties again and hope disappears. He unties again, and he feels capable of forgiving and moving on. As for me, I’m Scheherazade. Let me tell you the story.

First, the story before my story. He loved a woman. They were together for many happy years. Then, she ran away with another man. She left a letter in which all his acts of love were now seen as crimes, the deeds of an oppressive man. 

He cried. He howled. And he vowed to take revenge on all women for the sin of one. He hired a woman. And, with the same ropes he had affectionately hugged the first woman, he tied the second woman. Then, when she was helpless in front of him totally restrained, he would take the opportunity to insult and humiliate her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, because he was still a good man. So, he untied the woman and let her go. And the same happened with the second, and the third, and the hundredth. He always prepared the scene, but he never satisfied his anger.

Then, he hired me.

And I saw how hurt he was.

So, I began to tell him stories. At first, he was suspicious. He wanted to know where I wanted to get with all these stories. “They’re just stories”, I said. But anyone wise knows that stories are never just stories. Slowly, very slowly, his heart began to heal. And I would never stop telling my stories.

Then, one day, it was he who told me his story: a story about pain and the hope to heal. And that changed everything. I had become Scheherazade for him.

This is my Shibari story.