Tuesday, 4 June 2013

My Spontaneous Me

I once was a teenager,
contemplating the sea,
from a rock,
in dark cold wintery night.

I had just come out of a spiritual retreat,
with the intent of not going back.

I wanted to end my life.

I was the laughing stock of my friends,
the disapproval of my teachers,
the leprosy to my nuns.

I was different.
I was unwanted.

I loved a girl.
They loved boys,
or god.

There was no place for me,
amongst my friends,
to my teachers,
to my parents,
to society.

I closed the door,
saying goodbye to life,
to my few things.
Curious of who,
would have missed me.

I perched on that rock,
the sea was deep.

I knew,
that it was cold.

I knew that with my heavy boots,
swimming would be difficult.
Hypothermia would soon come.

I had studied it at school.

I observed,
the reflected twinkling of the light lamps,
of that society,
I longed to escape.

I do not know what held me.

There was not even the moon.

Maybe my soul,
although lost and delirious,
tired of dying,
always so early,
rekindled that desire:

to want,

to live,

at all costs.

I took a stone,
and with all my anger,
threw it,
as far away,
as my cry of pain,
could take.

I took another,
and then another,
until no residual strength,
closed my fingers.

I turned back to where I came.

Little did I knew then,
that I did pay a price,
on that altar.

I had left to bleed to death,
my spontaneous me.

1 comment:

Guernsey Girl said...

A very moving piece of work.

Thanks for sharing.