I heard once that wisdom always comes in silence. And So I’ve spent the last year of my life trying desperately to keep my mouth shut, waiting patiently for the moment this would all make sense. I’m beginning to hear the silence deliver messages to me, and for the first time, I’m starting to hear them clearly.
What is most ironic about this journey is that it keeps unfolding before me. Each lesson learned unravels a new piece of me previously unknown to myself. It turns out my soul lasts forever and runs deep inside itself. I keep traveling into it, cautiously discovering pieces of me unique and unseen.
As I travel, the whispers of my past get lost in the melody of my future, and sometimes I can’t determine which direction to turn my ear. Silence is tricky like this, a deafening stillness that begs for concentration. It is everywhere and no where all at once.
And now, the words fall from me mostly…pour from my skin and this brain with utter indifference to the lies I told myself for years. This must be the wisdom and I’ve come to understand that if I am going to forgive him, I must tell the truth about what really happened. The words can’t just be inside me anymore, they must fall from me so that I can fall from it. It’s buried so deep, even I can’t always find it. Buried beneath a treasure of smiles where laughter erased the pain. Now I fall silent, and catch a glimpse of how scared I really was.
He used to spend a lot of time hitting walls. And i spent a lot of time thankful that it wasn’t my face. Except with each falling piece of drywall, fell my trust. Shattered to the core, I knew there was no boundary he wouldn’t cross. Nothing he wouldn’t say, nothing he wouldn’t do. He destroyed the trusting part of me–bent it till it broke and named me responsible for each piece that laid in the wreckage.
Where is the silence in that?
Where is the wisdom?