The terror of emptiness is switched on.
Turning the page is never enough. In the absence of redemptive words and the right tools for conciliation you are thrown back in time in an blink of an eye. Your automatic pilot has done it’s job, responing to triggers before you even noticed.
You been here before, in the place you fear and hate the most. Yet it’s the most familiar place. The closest is suddenly the most remote.
Wearing only the mantle of pain and mourning you are walking in the ruins, like the unhappy migrant permanently resident in the ports of loneliness. Houses built by the furious sledgehammer, the nails of mistrust and the barbed wire of bitterness will always collapse as easy as the house of cards in the wind, by the weight of words landing wrong.
The deepest wounds are not made by the sharpest knifes, but by the lies, the betrayals and the distance. Words needed to be asked for has no value, attention needed to be begged for has no meaning.
The smell of loneliness, so familiar.
There’s no old man next door to run to, always ready to serve sweet desserts together with comforting words by an old kitchen table. There’s no dog lying by your feets looking at you with warm and trusting eyes.
There’s nowhere to run but to yourself. It’s just you, alone. Bound to learn to Love your most fragile parts. Bound to learn to exhale the past and to inhale the future. With trust, for Life. For You.
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