It is possible to see and yet be blind. To hear and not listen. But is it possible to speak and yet be silent? I am a mute. I can see the injustices but I cannot bellow my defense. I hear the cries of pain from the ones falling around me, but I cannot soothe their tears. My silence screams.
The surface of the sea is my world. The gentle rocking waves pour over my words, suppressing them with the weight of the water. Underneath the obvious lie violence, survival, beauty and mystery….
My silence screams.
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My words are thrown like stones hitting a wall. They penetrate nothing. They fall to the ground in a pile of rubble. Not even the dust is able to rise around them.
Why do I continue to reach for another stone? Why can I not be released back into the lake of complacency where I was first ensnared? Why must the words be pulled like a child being ripped from a mother's womb? They breathe life and then they must be nursed. They are imperfect. They are demanding. They will ultimately control me.
Have mercy on me. I live in the abyss of mediocrity. This I know. And this I cannot endure.
I reach for another lovely stone...
Why do I continue to reach for another stone? Why can I not be released back into the lake of complacency where I was first ensnared? Why must the words be pulled like a child being ripped from a mother's womb? They breathe life and then they must be nursed. They are imperfect. They are demanding. They will ultimately control me.
Have mercy on me. I live in the abyss of mediocrity. This I know. And this I cannot endure.
I reach for another lovely stone...
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- Toni Tunstall Reyes
- Nashville, Tennessee
- It is never too late to be what you might have been....George Eliot
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