06-24-2019, 05:25 PM
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
She’s not entirely certain what draws her to the meadow that particular day. Not certain why she leaves the familiarity of the ocean’s edge, of the land that has been her home since birth. Perhaps it’s the way the land had buckled those weeks ago now. Reminding her that even the earth cannot stay the same forever. No matter how much she might wish to languish in the comfortable and familiar, nothing remains as it was forever.Whatever the reason, she is spurred to leave. To set uncertain legs outside the boundaries of that which she has known, that which she finds comfort in, to seek out something she cannot quite name. She is not certain she will even find it here. She does not especially care for the dryness of the air and the brittle brush of late fall grasses on her pearly limbs.
It is so painfully obvious she does not belong. So crushingly absurd, a fish out of water.
The thoughts of those around her clamor loudly in her head, reminding her why it had been so easy to hide away to Tephra. Why she had never sought out such wild cacophony. Mother said she would grow accustomed to it, but she’s not certain she wishes to.
She almost flees right then, even turning in the direction of the river, before a single, forlorn thought catches on the forefront of her consciousness. A silent cry, the pleading of a very soul. It would be so easy to ignore, were she a more callous woman. But the hard reality her mother saw had been softened in her by the endless joy of her father, and she could not ignore it.
Instead she turns, follows that single thread. It is not easy in this messy, noisy place, but there is a stubborn tenacity residing deep in her soul. And soon she locates him, a man of rudy gold and earthy green. His sorrow is nearly a shout in her mind now, the pain of someone who the world had not been kind to.
She almost hesitates in her approach, not certain if she knows what to say, what to do. Not even certain if he wishes her companionship. But she has already come too far now. And in this place where she does not belong, where seafoam and pearlescent shell proclaim her a stranger, she finds herself refusing to bend before her own uncertainty.
“You’re not,” she whispers softly, the grass hushing across her pale limbs as she settles hesitantly nearby. “I don’t think you’re an inconvenience.”
Because somehow, in his need to be saved, he had saved her a little bit.
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
persea
