He crept into view and exposed his under belly with slightly enigmatic wording, but I knew what he meant without hand-holding. He created a Hell for himself and the good and bad angels roosting on his shoulders could not find peace. They held their heads in their hands curling over like lamp posts.
I wrestled with myself for a reaction. Nothing sounded right. Is being kind keeping your mouth shut or offering words of wisdom laced with comparison? Is peace something we grant to ourselves or something we toast to with one another?
I couldn't sleep because this demon-man kept presenting himself with "I'm sorries" and "I didn't mean to's" every time I closed my eyes. Manipulations. Human frailties rear their tortured heads. I no longer am tortured. Does this mean that I am the strong one? Does this mean I have to carry the weak and misguided to their starting gates? Does this mean that once I do that I can watch the gates clang shut and gracefully walk down my glorious green path with a smile in my heart and on my lips?
No comments:
Post a Comment