I should figure it all out right-this-second. I should know what to do! Yet I don’t have a clue.
Sitting with unease isn’t easy. It’s sort of the feeling of being sideways, at the tip of a rollercoaster while the mirrors in a funhouse are spinning – at best it is unsettling.
I have to rearrange a few molecules of thought and push aside the heaviness and fraught. Listen, listen and hear the soft steady rain and how each ping is a slightly different note. ‘Shhh,’ says a voice to not hear the noise of other things. Distractions are inevitable. Waves of yesterday wash in and I watch her from afar.
She reaches for the gunmetal locker. The combination of thoughts a jumble. She flips the numbers right-left-right. No sweetness in the click of salvation. The hallway pushes and shoves. Voices yell an explicit exclamation. A teacher’s silhouette is framed in a jamb of a door. Lights always flickering with a dull buzz. It distorts. The smell of hundreds crammed down smooth worn halls. Painful actually.
The walls cry from the gray-green memories worn. The numbers again spin while the fear floods. She could not be late. The second bell would pierce the membranes of a quiet hope of clear. I watch her hold the number sequence and feel the final click of steady.
Books crawl safely into her arms. The weight secures her drifting.
Seated, far right & back against the wall, she collapses from the weight of it all.
‘Shhh,’ says another voice. ‘You don’t have to figure out everything. The answers will unearth from a place buried deeply in the estuaries of soul. For now, lean against the wall of heart and let the rain be the books, and the words the weight of steady and the click of calm is the keyboard.’
She smiled softly into hope.