You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins To Break
2000 Apocalypse
The beginning of the end of my life of the lie. I will destroy and trash everything in my life that is not of Truth, and most of all, myself. I’m about to bleed to death. The beginning of True Joy, freedom. It is going to be a long, excruciating and tough road to real sanity. And without the God, I am still to recognise was always walking with me, I’d never have made it through.
May 1st.
The denial walls of
what I can no longer tolerate have crashed the night before. Vodka pours down my throat like water. Painkiller. Little effect, accustomed.
Some conversation goes on, truth is not forthcoming. Had enough, kids are out, no more games, I’m dying inside.
I get up, walk out, and head for the beach. There is nothing left of me. I need water, I need Truth.
Blackened beach, my legs are no longer carrying me, I collapse on knees amidst the sand and my heart begins to break.
I can’t even cry,not. yet, but I want to. The tears that are to come are the hardest of all, the death of the Self.
Sand pours through my fingers, like fragments of time,moments, accumulating, grain by grain. Tears begin to flow, unimaginable pain courses my being – and this is only the beginning.
He is there , behind me now. Pleading, what is it you want, I don’t know what to say or do.
The answer is simple, Truth.
He has brought the car behind me to the beach. I step in it. He drives first to a car park, not home. Gone shopping has he, but shopping time is over, comfort blankets are over and only one thing will suffice and that is Truth, and he is not about Truth.
Uncoated of his attempt to ‘buy’ time he doesn’t have left. The engine starts.
Silence, he doesn’t head for home this time either. But out of town.
Wheels headed into the night, a new born silence, never known.
Every bit of his obsession, control and now desperation, shame, covering, is visible as he drives this car with a steeled silence further and further away from home. I can feel and see the determined, desperate, cogs ticking in his head
There is one thing paramount in my mind – get this one wrong and I will never see my children again.
One or both are going home, and if it is one, it is me. Whatever it takes, for my children, I’m going home.
November 7, 2011 at 11:03 am
i can see sadness and desperate in your poem well written
November 7, 2011 at 12:16 pm
Thank you. Was beginning to road of – life.