Something flashed across my path today. Nothing huge, earth shattering or monumental... Except to me. The funny thing about it is, it wasn't even a big deal, but behind it lay a big deal, therefore it drudged up all of the fears, insecurities, and gaping open wounds that I thought were long forgotten, put to rest and tucked away. My first instinct was to write a dark and ominous poem that alludes to nothing, yet describes everything in crystal clear darkness of the pain left throbbing in the past. But I didn't have the words for poetry, the energy to describe the pain, or the ability to analyze it over and over in my head, yet again. And that's what scares me. I have no problem putting
voice to my joys, sorrows and longings. So when something is too deep, too tender to express, and the memories so tender that words cannot even scratch the surface, it scares me. Only a handful of times in my life has something occurred that was so unexpected, so painful, I couldn't fully express it with words, phrases, emotions, pictures or through prayer. Yet deep inside, a part of me continues to search for that which cannot be explained, understand actions taken with no meaning, and explanations without the duty of revealing the whole truth.
Meaningful relationships are complicated, friendships are fragile. People, places and things which have the ability to complete us when they are in perfect harmony, also have the ability to devestate us on all levels, intellectually, spiritually, emotionally and deeply personally. It may not be in God's perfect plan that anything outside of Him have that much power over us, yet it absolutely is the truth, or at times
seems to be. I sent out a quick text today simply stating the issue in one short sentence, then ending with.... "And that's all I have to say about that." Because I can't begin the process of digging when I know it will unearth all of those questions again, yet reveal no answers. That's when I truly understand the depth of the wound, the healing that has yet to take place, and must face the fact that things may never have been as they appeared, know it may never be resolved, and accept that the pain will ever be diluted to the point I can put it into words. Having no words, is the scariest part of all, because that leaves me nothing... Well, nothing to say and for me that's a scary place to be. I have a special heart compartment for the few things failed by words. They are the secrets of my heart surrounded by the mystery of the complexities of life, stairways that have no destination, tunnels
with no light, paths with moss covered stones and windows with no glass. I keep the compartment under lock and key, alude to it every now and again until a language that surpasses the limitations of earth are passed. At that time the key will unlock a part of my story that has never been told. Until then, I have no words.
