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Her gift to me, closing her eyes so young–too soon, was a
lesson to open my own eyes wide… while I can. Fight the raging depravity in the
world, in my life, and in myself. Capture each moment as precious, regardless
of the feelings the moment is made of. A precious moment of hate, a precious
moment of love, of laughter, joy embarrassment…. I am not sure I can follow
this lesson fully, not yet. But at least I know to open my eyes and just begin
to see.
*******************
I believe in souls. I believe in them because I can feel my
own soul rage against my body, wanting to erupt. I feel it in the darkest of my
places, when my body shakes and leaks… my soul pushing outward, feeling too
much, more than my body is equipped to handle. My skin gets hot; I sweat. A
scream strains silently in my throat, pushing upwards, putting pressure on my
neck, eyes, head. If I let out a guttural scream, will that free a piece of
what needs to explode? Will it lessen the pressure or the pain? I am not sure,
but greedily, I continue to suppress the noise–keeping all of my soul trapped
within me. Foiled, it attacks my brain: kill yourself, kill yourself, kill your
body, let me be free, this is not enough, your body cannot contain me. Let Me
Free.
How familiar this feeling, though–the suppressed and
pressurized yell, the water from my eyes–to great joy! A desire for my soul to
burst fourth–from elation!–out from the imprisonment of my body. Perhaps the
answer is to work with my body, bring it up to standards with the rest of me.
Let it live up to the yearnings of my soul. Let my body free.
*******************
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it all depends on how you see.
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