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Paradise And Other Urban Legends

My thoughts…As random and twisted as they may be….

I sit while the tide rolls and listen to the pounding of the ocean.
Caught in the beauty and peacefulness, I wish I were a part of it.
I imagine being swept away into the darkness of its depths.
During this dream, just for a moment, I can claim its peacefulness as mine.

She drowned in LakeWinter, that’s what he would be told.
She smiled to herself as she thought about the look of pain his face would posses at that moment. 
He would be eaten up with guilt and regret. 
She knew exactly how he would react.
His mind would replay the horrible things he said…his last words to her.
He would feel sick and tears would stream down his face.
He would hate himself, maybe even try to take his own life. 
Of course he wouldn’t have the courage to succeed, the spineless jerk.
She leaned forward and felt herself slip from the dock into the icy water.
She smiled up at the moon, so beautiful and full.
Revenge was hers…she won.
She drowned in LakeWinter, she sang out as her body became submerged.

Empty- 
Like someone ripped everything from inside my entire being
Shattered-
Like a million tiny shards of glass on the floor.
Scared-
In ways and places that no one knows or will ever see
Trapped-
Feeling lost inside a room of mirrors that has no door.

There’s no escape, no way out, the hurt and pain just build up inside like a loaded keg of dynamite next to a burning flame.

How much more am I expected to take? A life of pain, abuse and heartaches.
My body, mind, spirit, soul have all been raped.
No one cares, I was just from birth a mistake.

Cold-
I can feel the emptiness all around me.
Alone-
No one understands or even tries to see.
Wishing-
The pain would stop and I could finally rest in peace.
Longing-
To be there to hold my angel babiestightly next to me.
Waiting-
To exit this hell called life and drift into enternal sleep.

I had a dream that I was lost, naked in the cold.
The wind ripped through my body, leaving me battered, bruised and freezing.
I tried hard to walk into the wind, but the force was too powerful.
I was knocked down over and over again.
Through it all, I could hear a distant laughter.
The laughter taunted and belittled me.

My body was bruised and aching.
I was scared and felt desperate and so alone.
I stood there screaming for help, for rescue.
But no one came to save me.
I could hear a voice in the distance, but it gave me no comfort.
I called out, “here I am”, but the voice didn’t hear me in return.

I awoke drenched in sweat, yet icy cold to the touch.
I realized the dream was a metaphor.
Your love keeps me feeling lost and naked…the distant voice was you.
No matter how hard I try, I am left empty and cold and so alone.
Your words rip through me like the icy wind.
It doesn’t matter what I say, you never hear me…or even try.
The battering and bruising are real and there….just inside my heart.

There are times I love being naked.
I love being naked in the flesh.
I love feeling the air and sunlight on my naked body.
When my body is naked, I feel free and alive.
I love the feel of my husband’s naked body againt mine.
But, najed isn’t just an experience of the flesh.
It is also an experience of the heart and soul and mind.
When my soul and heart are naked I feel scared.
I want to hide.
I hate the openness of that kind of naked.
While the naked flesh is beautiful and poetic,
the naked soul and heart are frightening and sinister.
I have no issue showing my flesh.
Showing my soul and heart though, makes me terrified.
I am not comfortable with that much exposure.

It was a vision that chanted symphony…
The site of him as he exited the shower, his tanned and muscular body glistening wet under the florescent bathroom light.
As he moved around the room I could hear the orchestrated music in my head.
He simply flowed. He moved with a grace that was indescribable. 
I leaned back on the bed and studied him through the open door as he toweled himself dry. 
Each movement of his arm, each ripple of defined muscle, was like an overture….
Moving.  Captivating.
He entered the bedroom with a smile that made my heart pound.

A pounding that could have drowned out a bass drum.
He made his way across the room and pulled me into his arms.
Our bodies entwined, moving together in an operatic masterpiece.

As the door slammed shut behind her, she wiped a hidden tear from the corner of her eye.
Where did it all go wrong?
They used to be so close, when did her sweet baby girl become this disagreeable tryant?
It seemed like the night had changed her smiling little girl into this sixteen year old stranger, so full of rage and hate that was impossible for her to understand.
She heard the stereo volume go up in the room and she sank down onto the stairs and wept.

She thought of what used to be, the ribbons and lace…Pig tails and curls.
“Play dollies with me mommy” 
“Make me a paper princess crown”….Where did the time go?

She went down stairs and curled onto the sofa, trying hard to concentrate on the needlepoint, snuggled under the comfort of the quilt she had made.  The squares were created from scraps of childhood memories..that  sweet smelling baby…the pigtailed little girl.

She heard the stereo go quiet.
 Followed by footsteps on the stairs.

She looked up to see her standing there, basked in the glow of the fireplace.
This beautiful, lanky creature…Part woman and still so much a child.
“Can I sit with you mommy?”

She puts down the needle work and lifts the quilt.
The rebellious teen has now transformed once again to the child that finds comfort in her mother’s loving arms.

As she sits and cuddles and rocks, she is amazed at how perfectly she still fits.
Her eyes glisten with tears…tears of both saddness and joy.
She thinks to herself and sighs, “My baby girl, my woman child.”

The night has once again transformed.
The tidal wave has passed and the sea is once again calm.
They had survived yet another storm, as they sail along the course of parenthood…as she guides her on the voyage from childhood.

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