Liberation Through Thought

There are moments in our lives which shape us. Bring us to a new understanding, of which beforehand we knew nothing of. The shift in our paradigm, the obvious tilt in our orbit is enough. It causes every fiber of our being to be examined, reflected upon, and criticized. We stand before our own mirror, our own looking glass, determined. We say to our mirrored self “I want to be beautiful”. How can the world understand what we truly want is to be loved? To be able to look ourselves in that jaded glass and know without hesitation. Is it possible, realistic even, to ask ourselves such a query? Would the world be able to grasp our hand, lift our spirits? When our life, even our most treasured loves are challenged, we fight. Why then, as humans, do we allow our very image to cause us to shrink? Do we not see the worth staring back in our misty eyes? Are we unable to feel the depths we encase in our souls waiting to be freed? A conundrum yet to be solved – to even be attempted...

Sitting here in my stuffy chair thinking upon my own existence, pondering the life you must have led, wondering about your intricate qualities. I know nothing of you and yet, your passing weighs heavily upon my heart laden with lead. Can I absorb your tragedy to? No longer a matter of strength, truly an issue of plausibility; one I cannot answer. My focus I find wanes, solely encumbered by a blurred image of you I crave to see in detail.

There are words to express the burning in my sockets, the choking grip in my throat, the retching sensation deep inside. There are words to comfort and console broken hearts tearing, screaming, shattered souls praying wistfully, minds mangled in foggy disbelief. There are words to indicate the inexpressible feeling of tragedy, the incomprehensible moment of loss, the unwavering coaster of emotions. There are words to lift spirits ravaged by a war uncontrollable, eyelids heavy, sodden with grief, shoulders slunk in submissive defeat. There are these words. I know not how to express them, how to use them to comfort and console, to indicate things inconceivable, to lift in times of great need. But -- I can cry. I know how to hug. Listen, I do well. Today, I need no words.

I feel outside of my skin as if I am looking onto a scene. Déjà vu and realistic though a different me. Someone I should know but find myself struggling to recognize. How can it be that she used to be me – used to share such likable qualities? And yet, here I stare and wonder where did the light go? So morose, depression set upon those chocolate eyes, bruised purple and sadly baggy with no other cause than life itself. I feel outside of my skin wondering when I can try it on again? When can I see how much baggage I have lost? Will I be a size or two smaller? Will I fit comfortably in my own skin?

The hazy dampness enfolding the surroundings, enriching the darkness. Silhouetted trees starkly black against the gloom of yellowed lamplight. Houses bare, absent of life in an otherwise bustling community. Forlorn seems too kind a description. Murky desolation entrancing the viewer. Slippery pavement seen as smooth glass, reflective of the eclectic atmosphere besieging the eve. Glimpses of flickering lights passing by, evicting their presence of this settlement. Their secrets no more revealed than that of spirits aimlessly wandering in marked repose. Misting sleet enamored with the air, gently traipsing to blanket the livelihood of humanity. Precious candlewicks gracing absent windowsills, glowing in retrospect of belief, death, faith. The innocuous cadence of falling liquid beseeches the kindred soul, focused, intent on drawing forth prospective victims. The picturesque landscape masked by the onset of fog, swarming to devour the abnormally reticent town. ...

Even as I sit at my dainty round table my mind wanders aimlessly; wondering where should I begin challenged by the emotions swirling in my chest. A suppressed fear growing, ripping through my cavity, sparing nothing in its wake. Throwing caution to the wind my desperation grows, knowing no bounds. What have you do, a person such as this? Life as they know it consuming. An empty abyss filled with despair, aching so brutally breath is overrated. Understand, oh would you please! Cannot you see the torture, the agony? Hear the whispers of my heart screeching in frustration. This indescribable, intangible affair squeezing the very aura from my being; bleeding me lifeless through means so profound ancient warriors would cringe and shrink in disbelief. Can you feel the pulse ebbing in its flow? The unnatural rhythm of something, some creature realizing its existence is mere breaths from end; welcoming the thought on many occasions as relief. Do you understand int...