Peering through my lashes at those around me, hands clasped, silent. As lonely as they come, and about as adrift as one can get while surrounded by people who know you, but don't really know you. It's a two way street. But it wasn't always. I remember the days when the walls were first being imagined, when the mortar hadn't even been mixed yet.
I had no words then that could change the shape or nature of the roads we would later walk, purposefully and with a hint of resignation and defeat. I had no way of knowing what the height and breadth of this wall of disgust would eventually blossom into. But I felt the first creeping sensation of fear, and over time I learned what it is to be despised -- to be surrounded by those who vomit words that crawl into your brain, slither along your spine, and drop one by one, like stones, into the pit of your stomach. And then they take the resounding silence that their word-stones created, and they fill it with their walls.
After all this time, it would take a voice like thunder to pierce such a veil. Am I strong enough? Will a single planted seed be enough to spider-web through the mortar, to break it over time? Or must I rise up with all the anger of Poseidon, a thousand tsunamis at my back?
No comments:
Post a Comment