I reach out for something to grasp but find empty hands. Darkness. Confusion. Nothing there and no one home.
The only noise is the silence that moves stealth like a viral disease, looking for its next victim.
It’s shaken us, this tragedy that has no explanation – and what explanation could it have? It would still be senseless and without merit. It would still diminish, harangue and frighten.
Safe is not a place out there. It never was. Safe has to be somewhere deep inside that enables you to carry on. Proves to you that there is sunlight outside the door that stands between you and everyone else.
Clutched hands and wrinkled, sodden hankies will not help us now. “Woe is me,” is nothing but a poor replacement for saying something honest. “The world has gone mad” or has it? Are we really that helpless?
Do we not still have our free will, our ever-adaptable minds and individual spirits?
Isn’t it possible even now or because of now, to be bigger than ourselves? Rising to the challenge of facing what makes us want to run away must be key to finding our voices and ourselves again.
Do the words of a rambling mind reach or repel you?
Life is fluid, always changing, despite any indication to the contrary. If we remain frozen in the moment, we are ceasing to live and therefore exist. Aren’t we?
I wish for us, to find our joy and hold fast. To flaunt it where darkness lurks and screeches. To choke off the fear and apathy.
Safe, is the place we make in our hearts and it cannot be taken from us unless we offer it up for slaughter.