In the morning when the sky explodes, and the horizon is littered with headlights going west,
I feel the caverns of my heart crack open again. I'm decimated by the pain in my chest.
Memories flood my senses. An overflow of what used to be. The good and the bad play out, like an old home movie.
Is it always supposed to be this way? Fighting with myself every waking hour? Watching my friends fall into the lava that burns and weaves into their world. Hearts and minds, souls and lives devoured.
Unable to help them. Impossible to reach out my hand. I'm sure they look back before they jump, but why they leap anyhow is something I struggle to comprehend.
My tears cannot quench the thirst of their agony, and I don't know which way to go. Years pass by with no answers, and I hear nothing in the wind that suddenly doesn't blow.
I burn my eyes, looking at the sunrise that brings a new day. I go about my schedule and I smile and I pray.
Inside I feel so lost, because pieces are missing. I put my thoughts into words, and I try to go on living.
We can't fix anyone, though we might try with all the strength we have. We can only hold onto the energy of love and healing, and hope they can catch a glimpse of that.
Somewhere in their minds, I have to hope they can see, that I am not judging them, nor giving up that they someday might again be free.
Can they put their toes into the earth? Can they see the sunset? I wish I knew, but I don't have all the answers yet.
December 1, 2021