She no longer sobbed uncontrollably. She had no energy for passionate tears, instead, at times, her tears would escape the padlocked box where emotions are kept and they would run down her face catching her by surprise.
It was that awkward stage of grief where hope still lingers. A place she knew she may never return from.
A shadow hiding in half light, waiting for the darkness to descend and yet hoping the sun would fail to sleep, just this one time.
Her head and heart in violent battle tearing each other apart like rabid dogs and all she could do was stand still. Helpless but not hopeless, alone.
Surrounded by someone else’s demons coaxing hers to come out and play.
So she stood not sure of up and down and left and right and in and out and everything kept spinning in silence around and she wished there was a soundtrack so she could figure out what was coming next.
At times the darkness began to drown her but a crack of light would filter through just enough to tease her into believing.
But the corner where she could be seen grew smaller, she watched herself being swallowed by the dark. This silent movie of the shadow girl.
Trapped in limbo between the night and the light fighting demons that were not her own.
I am bound and weighted and powerless to stir
Why in such imminence to the spirit;
do I appreciate yet abhor so much of what it is that makes me human;
Why in such closeness to love and peace;
do I learn to know myself and suffer veracity;
Why do I hide the truth of my soul in protection of others,
why do I feel such feelings unsolicited and unreciprocated;
Why do I know truth when denial crafts such beautiful veils
Why does my physical being ache so in denying my heart;
Is it blessed to endure the torment and cruelty of such human failings?
Solutions are intangible to me as I am;
But so I live;
It is not allowed for me
Such wonder is not my reward.
The desires and needs of my mind body and soul are not permitted;
Am I destined to be without as lessons of my frailty failings and imperfections are reminded to me each moment of each breath I inhale.
And yet I hope
although content in heart and mind
in the fleeting moments
as slumber joins hand with wakefulness
the heart hopes
that somewhere, sometime
I will reach out and feel the warmth
and beating pulse of the person that I can call home. © Christie Marie Kruger
I am broken in the middle I am torn by the deceit
I am wrecked by the intentions that the truth fails to seek
I am washed ashore an island with cries that never sleep
I am finding the smile in eyes no more to weep
So take me back to memory, when my eyes were open wide,
take me to the distant past when in my heart I smiled,
I hold onto the hope that faith and love won’t fail
and leave me here eyes closed in a blinded broken veil. © Christie Marie Kruger
Is a Portuguese and Galacian word for a feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which has been lost. It often carries a fatalistic tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never really return. It was once described as “the love that remains” or “the love that stays” after someone is gone.
I have had a few days where I have been reminded of the power of words. Slam poets and friend’s beautiful prose which reached inside me and slammed my heart against my brain. Why did stop writing. I know the answer but it’s hard to admit, to admit that I don’t process emotion like I used to. Broken hearts and corporate coldness taught me to handle emotion differently. During my “wild” years my emotions ran high and low and twisted about like a tornado in an empty field. I say my wild years, but I think those were my honest years. For thirty one years I was ruled by my heart and then I chose my head as CEO. So was it the words of others that prompted me to write? Perhaps, I know those words got me thinking. The final push was today learning that my “first love”, “long lost love”, “the one that got away”, told me he has become a dad. For seventeen years I have held onto this small sliver of hope. For seventeen years he has come to me in my dreams. Then I saw the word “saudade”. As is oft the case translation loses a words true emotional state, the translation I found ripped me to the core. When I heard the news I drowned in saudade and there I found a part of me that I had lost.
So I lost “the one” and I looked around and thought what else have I lost that I should have been holding onto and the answer slammed me backwards into myself and I thought where do I put these feelings, what do I do with the tears I cannot cry? Is there any more space in me to put emotion into boxes that remain unopened and unacknowledged? No. There is no more space, my feelings have to find freedom. So welcome to my blog. A place I hope I can be myself, and feel all that I feel. This is no place for boxes and rules and limits. This is my heart in words.