- Books, Literature, and Writing
I have stumbled. I have fallen down. I have seen the bottom more than once. Images from the past have haunted me. The bottom has come from my own hands. The bottom has come from what has been done to me.
Hands have been placed on my innocence. Monsters have came and gone. They have left they're sulfur smell. I carried the stench without even knowing I stank. They carved their mark within my soul, my mind, my heart. I built shelves to stack all those scars. Those memories built blank spaces. They grew within my subconscious. They were forgotten. Disregarded, thrown away as if they didn't matter.
But they did. They festered. They grew into living nightmares. They held my nerves and wrenched them into anxiety, those forgotten memories. They controlled my movements. My arms and feet carried me into a place of ruin, driven by a hole in my innocence.
I found my self at the bottom. Not because of a conscience decision to destroy my monsters, but that was my aim. I held onto my grief, my anger, my innocence lost. It drove me into insanity. Places were I was unwilling to clean my shelves from the filth that had built. I stuffed my own destruction in front of them. All was forgotten by my own actions .It kept me busy. Busy with wrong decisions, a self destruction, which made me in charge of those places, those unmentionables.
In the wake of my own destruction I came to a bend in the road, a place of wandering how I came to be here. That's were the bottom was found. I saw the shattered dreams. I was broken. I had fallen down. I lay there bleeding and alone, utterly alone, alienated by all that I had done. I had become a monster in my own right. I smelled the stench that was clinging from they're hands and my own.
I had forgotten how to love. I had left behind all joy my heart had once known. So here I had to decide .Can I carry this load? Can I continue on my own? The rain came and I stood there drenched in my own tears.
The winds came .The winds to dry the body of water that was engulfing me, the winds of change and hope. I had sat there asking for these winds to come, and they did. I knew were my healing had to come from. I knew the master of my destiny was blowing the winds I had begged for.
My Christ came and took away the filth that I had been stacking in front of the shelves in my mind. He knew the root to the evil deeds. He pulled away the mire and muck that had blinded me. He yanked the roots. My God was shifting the ground I was standing on. He stood in front of me. He handed me the roots of my destruction. I had to look. I had to see those memories. He gave me the clear vision I needed. I stood there looking, and was amazed because I had forgotten.
The torrents of rain that had almost drowned me were dried completely by his breath. The winds saved me. I agreed to let them all be swept away.
He stood taller than me and reached for every bit of my self that was lying there on that shelf I had worked so hard to build and to hide. Every part was exposed.
That's when the healing came. The scales fell from me. The stench was gone and I smelled freedom again, freedom from myself, freedom from the hands that were holding me back. I have freedom from the marks that were made to scar me. So faithfully driven I have hope again.
I'm in better hands now.