high strung cross

here is my truth, this is how I feel, so much, so strong the back of my head pounds:

a parade of black but meant to be a party. does no one see the irony in that?

faces meant to be familiar but bodies tense, arms crossed, words too hard to find.

eyes heavy with tears but no words spoken. We are a clan who does not discuss what our hearts feel, not so openly, not the way this heart feels.

I knelt on the wooden floor, in the shadow filled sanctuary and I tried to pray. My ring covered fingers flipped the thick pages of the book meant to have the answers but I didn’t find any. I never do so I got up and I looked back and I whispered: how can I believe in you if you did this to me?

the pain was all so clear but so was the love and yet my body began to shake in the way it does when it wants to run.

I can not fix this puzzle, which was broken before, because now a piece is missing forever. It will wait on the floor.

As I will wait. This was only the beginning and that’s what scares me most of all.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s