Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Tired arms

Packing to go camping, no time to write today, here is some old cheese...its a favorite of mine.

***************************


This is dedicated to Missy and Spiral_girl


*******************************************

I have often wondered what I would say to me if I could go back in time and
talk to the me of the past.

Gawd I was such a mess, filled with rage and hatred and venoumous eyes that
shot barbs of steel at anyone who dared to make eye contact.

I was like a homemade explosive that was made by a madman, wrapped up in
duct tape with filthy rags and bare wires poking out here an there in a
chaotic disaray. If you messed with me the single tilt of my head would trip
the mercery switch and I would go supernova.

The darkness and madness were tangable in and around me. I was untouchable,
unaproachable, and bordering on unhuman.

What could you say to reach someone so far intrenched and barracaded behind
brick walls and rolls and rolls of barbedwire?

......how would I speak to her? Could my words make a difference and ease
the pain in her heart?

lets see...

Once upon a time when I was wandering in time I came across me. This
woman/child with dark blue eyes and dishwater brown hair.

I wondered if I should talk to her.

Her fierce stance and cocked foot hinted at her ability to take quick
flight. Her shaggy long hair fell across her eyes giving her the appearance
of an untamed mustang.

I stepped forward toward her...

Her head swivel like a tank turret fixing me in her sights. She snirked
under her breath and for a second fought with her face to keep from laughing
aloud.

I walked up to her and stopped. She drew up her shoulders and fixed a cold
sqwinted eyed gaze on me.

My head tilts as I feel my eyes softening into pools of empathy and concern.
"Your arms must be so tired" I say fighting the tears.

She stares me down, and then laughs raising her scarred and scabbed and
bruised arms upwards...as if the sight of them will drive me away. "tired of
this? It don't hurt"

"I know it doesn't hurt," I replied twisting my own so that the light
illuminated the numerous white scars. "I said your arms must be so tired"

Again the fight with her face as she wrested for control. I wonder who with
in her is busting a gut to speak to me.

"tired of what?" she sneers at last.


"tired of carring all that emotional baggage, the bags must really be heavy,
look at how your shoulders droop and ache...its twisting your body into a
slump."

She squirmed and figited like a worm on a hook.

"Tired of playing tug-a-war and pulling so hard on the rope..."

She is quick to interupt, "I'm not playing tug-a-war with anyone" she spits
with a venomous slur.

"Your playing with yourself...and you are playing both sides...you are
pulling and trying to drag yourself over the line towards being normal and
living a happy life and you are also trying to drag yourself backwards and
stay safe with in your personal madness."

I notice her face pales, giving away that she is gone dissociating beyond reach. She
has fled inside.

I continue knowing she is hiding near the surface listening just behind
her own shoulder for safety.

"Little one, put down the bags, drop the rope, remove the thick heavy rusty
shackles from your spirit, stop pushing everyone and everything away. Lower
your arms the danger has passed you dont need to walk around in a defensive
stance any more. Relax your hands and open your fists..." I falter my words
sound forced and no longer flow.

She is still. Her only movement the flaring of her nostrels as her breathing
quickens. She is preparing to take flight.

I try again, "your arms must be so tired"

Her head tilts upwards just a fraction indicating the primal flee urge has bubbled to
the surface of her conciousness and joined her.

I have only seconds before she will be gone and unreachable.

"your arms must be so tired...so tired of telling your story over and over
and over. Tired of crying silent red tears that no one hears. Tired of being
all that stands between you and insanity, tired of holding onto the ledge so
that you don't fall into the abyss, tired of holding onto the last grain of
dignity and sanity that hasn't been stipped from you by the skin knife that
sliced your soul. Tired of both keeping your secrets and shouting them with
tiny red mouths cut into them." I am crying now. Hoping my words are
reaching past the bricks she surounds herself with.

She is gone. She moves so swiftly that in the time it took to blink she has
vanished.

I stand defeated. My eyes closed as I remember her pain and how it was so
hard to be alive and function at that time in my life. I wish I could have
eased her pain. I sigh. maybe it isnt' time for her yet. Maybe her arms
arn't tired yet.

I shuffle my feet and the resulting scuffing noise causes me to look down.

The tears return as I squat down and run my fingers through the red grit on
the ground where she had stood. I may not have reached her, but I has sure
as hell scatched the surface of her walls!

Some walls come down brick by brick...others must be sanded down slowly and
painstakingly with sand paper.

I smile.

I was right her arms were tired. Now they have less to carry, she has left
behind a sliver of her wall.

I silently call out to her..."peace be the journey."

thend

(c) 01-02-2007 all rights reserved

No comments:

Post a Comment