Thursday, January 26, 2012

Blocks

Silence.  It sings when perfectly still.  With the constant banter in my mind it is hard to find a silent spot.  But when I do, I find the warmth in being all alone. 

Sleeping well evades me as I roam our home.  In the dark I am listening for that silent tune where there is no fear.  No screams.  No pain.  No awakened anguish.  These times when I'm all alone are few.  I cherish them and hope for the next time not so far away.

As a child I loved to be alone.  These were moments when I was safe.  I could play in my room for hours; always in a corner facing out but alone and content.   Even found in a closet, darkness and pieces of air could be a symphony.  The whispers of my friends were welcome but even they learned to listen to the music.

Much more pain and many more shattered friends later; the silence has all but disappeared.   Each chance to be alone I embrace.  I hope that in this time I will hear that peace I loved so much. 

But then the chatter starts and builds block upon block.  There is no safety in numbers as the distractions are so great.  Angry at the peace they have obstructed, I swing to topple those blocks.  But as they crash the sounds only grow more intense.  I stop and look at what I've done.  The damage I myself have created. 

I turn my back on them as if they have no voice.  But their tiny words pierce my mind.  I hold my head.  I pound with my fists.  I take a pill.  Nothing works to drown them out. 

In desperation I pick up a block and I see it for what it is.  A tiny piece of a careful wall constructed all around me.  Protection from the worst. 

I listen as the block begins to speak; not a scream yet not a whisper either.  I want to throw it back into the pile but instead I pick up another.  The more I listen, I realize what I always knew.

These blocks were once the safest corner in which I played.  And then he destroyed that protective angle in which I fit so perfectly.  Devastation as my childish hands picked up the bits and block by block a wall began to form.

A small stack of blocks behind me show a tiny bit of progress.  Many more blocks are scattered.  One block.  Two blocks.  Another and another.  Some are heavy.  Some are sharp and jagged.  Some are big; the cornerstones.  And then the tiniest of pieces; shattered as they bore the worst.

As I ask to listen their weight lessens.  And a painful yet simple I'm sorry smooths away their exposed rawness.  With that they are ready to find their spot in a new and wholly constructed wall.

And my strength is reinforced.

9 comments:

Ruth said...

I wish you strength and patience for this block-by-block new wall. I was so interested to get to the words "I'm sorry," which I take as you speaking to yourself. This is huge, isn't it? Taking hold, holding yourself.

Louise Gallagher said...

I am grateful you dropped in to visit me today. I am grateful you lead me here. In our shared experiences lives courage, strength, hope and the promise of life beyond the pain. I hear you. I see you. You are known to me. I'll keep coming to visit as you write it out to the other side. Hugs

Louise

Sarah (Nikki) said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sarah (Nikki) said...

This is so powerfully written. You describe the journey of healing incredibly. Sending you tons of hugs and support...

Friko said...

Courage,I wish you the courage to go on.

Shattered said...

Thank you, Ruth. Yes, that is me speaking to myself. It's huge, it's awful, and I want to take it back all the time.

Jennifer

Shattered said...

Louise, thank you for reading and your comment.

Shattered said...

Sarah, thank you for the support. Healing is certainly easier to write about than it is to acutally do...

Shattered said...

Friko, it's very nice to see you again. Thank you.