Wednesday, June 10, 2009

HER

I can hear the sound of her crying in the night, in private, as the rest of the world slumbers and sleeps

I can feel the suffocating heartache of her dying dreams and the endless ticking of time

I can see the disappointment in her eyes when she talks about the life that is, and remains protectively silent regarding the life that could have been

I can sense her looking back at what used to be, turning what is into a dry dusting of salt

I know the emptiness that comes from her living to fulfill other’s plans rather than pursuing a passionate purpose of her own

I wrestle with the discomfort of her restlessness over wanting to be someone, but whom? wanting to do something, but what? wanting to reach that goal, but how? wanting to leave her mark, but where? wanting to find true meaning, but why?

I can recognize her shame, as old as that of Eve’s, from not getting it right the first time, and the embarrassment that comes with the fallout

I can hear the lies circling around in her head as she compares her life to the way “they” say it should be–falling so short, and feeling so responsible for the mess that it has become

I can see the effects of her tuning out, unplugging and turning off–hoping to stop the misery and meaningless momentum

I can feel the guilt that comes from her own dysfunction…and the effect it’s had on her family and friends

I can look in the mirror and see her distorted figure–one that to her seems awkward and ugly, but in reality is breathtakingly beautiful and a sight to behold

I hear the haunting echoes of her voice calling, “Do you see me?” “Can you hear me?” “Will you touch me?”

I close my eyes, and I know she’s out there.

I close my eyes, and I know that I love her.

I close my eyes, and I know I am not just like her…I simply am her.

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