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A Drop of Hope

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
~ Khalil Gibran
 
Watching flock after flock of birds ride the waves of the cold front yesterday filled me with hope and wonder.
 
I’m tiny, quiet and inconsequential. I’m insignificant...invisible for the most part. And I don’t mind it. Because I prefer it...it allows me to listen...to listen and observe. We rarely ever say what it is we wish to say, but our behaviours tend to give us away.

What do I see?

I see pain. I see it everywhere. And I see an increasing need in others to misplace that pain within our soul onto others. I see the pain grow as it takes over another and then another, much like a contagious pathogen.

And I wonder...

Does that action ever truly allow the pain to leave you? I often thought it was an attempt at diversion, perhaps jealousy or envy or even hatred plays a role. To neglect, suppress and ignore your pain by pushing it onto others seems like a form of cowardice, in that sense.

So, is the brave choice to face it? To be brave and allow yourself to be vulnerable. Is that even a possible correlation?

I can’t imagine doing it at this point. My pain has rendered me paralysed. My days are a fog...breathing is difficult, let alone the other tasks that are required. My body screams to rest, the pain is too much. So those tasks go unseen to, except a timer that goes off to ensure that I actually eat.

To be told to ‘just breathe’ when in such a state seems like a dagger to the heart. As if breathing will lift the demon from me that has made its home upon my shoulders. To ‘just breathe’ seems like a false hope.

What would help, then?

To be told that life is just fucking hard sometimes. That cruel, dark, and unjust things happen for no reason. And that the pain is real, justified, and needs to be seen through. To be told you’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

You’re not alone.




YOU are not alone.
 
LucianaGrace said:
Another wonderful find. Another thing I needed to read right now. Thank you, as always, Ry :rose:
Click to expand...
By the rude bridge that arched the flood
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled
Here once the embattled farmer stood
And fired the shot heard round the world

The first stanza of The Concord Hymn by Emerson. His poem on the first day of the American Revolution. A revolution against the greatest power in the world at the time.
 
Booboobear84 said:
By the rude bridge that arched the flood
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled
Here once the embattled farmer stood
And fired the shot heard round the world

The first stanza of The Concord Hymn by Emerson. His poem on the first day of the American Revolution. A revolution against the greatest power in the world at the time.
Click to expand...

Interesting.

May I ask why you shared it? For me there is an awe in the image of an embattled farmers act resonated around the world.
 
LucianaGrace said:
I’m tiny, quiet and inconsequential. I’m insignificant...invisible for the most part. And I don’t mind it. Because I prefer it...it allows me to listen...to listen and observe. We rarely ever say what it is we wish to say, but our behaviours tend to give us away.

What do I see?

I see pain. I see it everywhere. And I see an increasing need in others to misplace that pain within our soul onto others. I see the pain grow as it takes over another and then another, much like a contagious pathogen.

And I wonder...

Does that action ever truly allow the pain to leave you? I often thought it was an attempt at diversion, perhaps jealousy or envy or even hatred plays a role. To neglect, suppress and ignore your pain by pushing it onto others seems like a form of cowardice, in that sense.

So, is the brave choice to face it? To be brave and allow yourself to be vulnerable. Is that even a possible correlation?

I can’t imagine doing it at this point. My pain has rendered me paralysed. My days are a fog...breathing is difficult, let alone the other tasks that are required. My body screams to rest, the pain is too much. So those tasks go unseen to, except a timer that goes off to ensure that I actually eat.

To be told to ‘just breathe’ when in such a state seems like a dagger to the heart. As if breathing will lift the demon from me that has made its home upon my shoulders. To ‘just breathe’ seems like a false hope.

What would help, then?

To be told that life is just fucking hard sometimes. That cruel, dark, and unjust things happen for no reason. And that the pain is real, justified, and needs to be seen through. To be told you’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

You’re not alone.




YOU are not alone.
Click to expand...

and neither are you Lucy:rose:
 
LucianaGrace said:
I’m tiny, quiet and inconsequential. I’m insignificant...invisible for the most part. And I don’t mind it. Because I prefer it...it allows me to listen...to listen and observe. We rarely ever say what it is we wish to say, but our behaviours tend to give us away.

What do I see?

I see pain. I see it everywhere. And I see an increasing need in others to misplace that pain within our soul onto others. I see the pain grow as it takes over another and then another, much like a contagious pathogen.

And I wonder...

Does that action ever truly allow the pain to leave you? I often thought it was an attempt at diversion, perhaps jealousy or envy or even hatred plays a role. To neglect, suppress and ignore your pain by pushing it onto others seems like a form of cowardice, in that sense.

So, is the brave choice to face it? To be brave and allow yourself to be vulnerable. Is that even a possible correlation?

I can’t imagine doing it at this point. My pain has rendered me paralysed. My days are a fog...breathing is difficult, let alone the other tasks that are required. My body screams to rest, the pain is too much. So those tasks go unseen to, except a timer that goes off to ensure that I actually eat.

To be told to ‘just breathe’ when in such a state seems like a dagger to the heart. As if breathing will lift the demon from me that has made its home upon my shoulders. To ‘just breathe’ seems like a false hope.

What would help, then?

To be told that life is just fucking hard sometimes. That cruel, dark, and unjust things happen for no reason. And that the pain is real, justified, and needs to be seen through. To be told you’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

You’re not alone.




YOU are not alone.
Click to expand...

Just give me a moment to recover from this piece of profundity.
 
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