I am a tug of war. This is what I feel most days.... stuck between a place of fear, a place where I dare only peek a corner, to then go back to familiar hiding and hold my breath til I feel safe again. And then there's the other place. The place that would have me bust wide open anyway.
I fear I might break. Like porcelain doll hands shattering- delicate shells and tiny, intricate details damaged beyond repair.
Or that I might burst. That I might explode like some bloody display of scarlet paint, a grotesque, murderous, unartistic accident where no semblance of any form exists.
I fear I might fade. Like too many washes turning brilliant white grey.
I fear I might stain. That I might never see past the repetition of the memory of it. That it might encompass me fully, like an eclipse of something foul.
Then I fear I might always be here. Hiding in the darkness... flitting like the shadow of a candle. I fear that the consequences might be- that I disappear. Like a graduating fade out of old ghosts.
I fear the ache. It creeps up inside me and grasps at my heart, like a breathless vice. It takes me as I watch all the world.
And then, I see the other place. That place is full of familiar faces.... all lit with alive- like eyes meeting sunrise for the very first time. Enthused, beautiful, soaring. Joyous- that beautiful song. That graceful swooping low, with quiet whispers of contemplation. That screaming, childlike, laughing high- where it's reminiscent of those playground swings, and where it almost seemed possible that I could reach the sky.
I'm above and below.
Above and ectastic and smiling with the beauty of all I see. Above and thinking that it's all behind me.
Below and witness the toil of life, the humbling events, the quiet wonder of mystery. Below and unravelling seemingly endless reels of my history.
Created: Jun 15, 2012Kyra_blue Document Media