She sits by the wayside, pondering her next move. Her feet crossed over the bench, her hand tucked neatly beneath her thigh as the other hand holds her sagging head in place. She reminisces over the past and silent sadness permeates her eyes.
Her brown eyes lost the rhythm of her dance months before. Now they lazily roam the scope of her vision, lost and hurt. Her eyes, no one could look into them anymore for she would not let them lay bare her pain. Lack lustre and forlorn, these were all too familiar characteristics of her eyes. She sighs as the atmospheric reverence of her eyes threatens to break into torrential floods. With one more sigh, she thinks to herself how exhausted she is of the el Niño in her soul.
She quietly hangs her head even lower, shutting out the sounds of the past and trying to filter in the silence of the present. “Put your hand here…”, she remembers the smell, she can picture the stench.
Her short fingers pull tightly against the bench as it were, exorcising the thought from memory. She looks up to the heavens, silently pleading for mercy. “Is there no relief?” She quietly asks, waiting for a response.
Her tattered mind walks through the fame street of her memory, noting the “stars” and watching the expert act they play. The script written on earth, the pain ordained in her heart. The scars, painting the background and the shame screaming out “action”.
Another sigh, no relief.
Another intimate moment and she feels alone. She stands and walks. Meticulously shoving one foot in front of the next; forcing her disabled mind to focus on this one action, Forward. She walks along the road, watching as the cars and trucks roll by. She hears no sound, the memories are too loud.
She sees it. The long breadth of it. Winding its way towards her, she can’t take the noise anymore, “maybe this is the answer I have been looking for.” I muse.
I’m ready to kill the noise, “If my mind won’t stop I will make it stop. I will make it stop, I will make it stop, I will make it stop” she chants, moving closer to the edge. Between the pavement and the speed, adrenaline in full surge in her system.
Her mind pushing her and fear drowning in the space of death and she keeps walking to the edge and as it comes closer, her foot leaves the pavement ready to walk in its path, the driver blaring his horn, her head focused her eyes shut to the screams of reality her body ready to sacrifice the mind…
“Peace be still.” The still small voice stronger than a mighty wind, greater than anything and it pulled her back to the pavement. She heard the voice of the GOD of heaven who cares.
Her eyes lit with tears, she sits on the pavement as the truck rushes by and the wind pushes her back. Another averted event.
LORD can you maintain me, I am terrified I will try again and this time I will not stop till the last cut is the final breathe.
“Peace be still…”
Silence…
