A downturned face can mean so many things you know, you know better than you let on, so why do you always assume the silence, the quiet voice, is an opportunity to step in. Sometimes the downturned face is a fight to hold it back, sometimes it’s the protection of the heart, sometimes the contemplation of a reason, and sometimes just a burdensome headache not so well hidden.
She surprises
me sometimes with a roar (*hint),
that will always be my favorite thing; the quiet one who speaks truth so
beautifully. When I was younger, I might have perceived her voice as raw, and
I’d have stepped forward compelled to listen, and then spent all my hours
replaying those thoughts alone, praising her for unleashing her righteous anger
unhindered (for my benefit). But sometimes
when I am in the right space, if I am mindful, I can see the difference between
my prejudiced insistence that such anger is natural (read ‘exotic’), and not the product of a billion hours spent
carefully crafting, adjusting, attuning and finally fulfilling a human need
often mired by a craftwork of hindrances –most invisible to me, but upon which
I insist (or often do, at least).
So, I nod along, this is the conversation I was expecting,
hold your prejudices back boy, and listen. Turn your face down if you must hide
your shame, but don’t you dare stop listening. Peel back the layers, one gnarly
scalpel cut at a time, cringe and grip at the cold air exposure, that’s what it
means to be present, that ache, that sting, that’s the shared connection to
humanity, now listen with your whole heart exposed.
No comments:
Post a Comment