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Of Things That Go Bump In The Night.

 

Through the haze,

That fog that is won’t to come,

When called forth, just as when it will,

Through the looking glass,

The door as it were,

Into the other side…

 

I see her, the woman,

Seated on the ground,

The dirt floor as it were,

Clothes in tatters, hair in disarray,

Bruises fresh, blood mingled with tears,

Battered, pleading, bargaining…but no!

 

He towers above her,

Fire and thunder in his eyes,

He is deafened by the roar of his will,

His fists call for blood…

No more! It would have her…

Only her death would sate his fists.

 

Temperature rising…I am hoarse from screaming.

I look away from the vision…

Who can help me? I can hear her screams…

Alas! I am immobile.

Try as I might, I can only look on,

There is no help to be had…

 

A blow to the head,

Some kicks to the ribs,

Crouched…some well measured punches to her eyes,

Both bloodied by now…

I scream in silence, I curse and spit…

She on the other side has gone lifeless.

 

Is she dead or alive I wonder?

 

This woman…this blessed woman…

This woman seated right at my side…

Our hands clasped together,

Salty rivulets flowing anew,

Having both visited the visions through the looking glass,

And come through with our humanity intact.

 

Written a day ago while convalescing, when one’s guard is down and thoughts of doom and gloom are bound to float around. Thinking on conversations had in confidence with an acquaintance and wondering, just how many others are in this self same predicament?

To all who suffer, have suffered or have borne witness…be strong. Find strength, get out, get counseling and be stronger. You are not alone. God will heal and comfort you. I say again, be strong. You are beautiful in every single way, inside and out.

 

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