PoeticThursdays: The fire of the youth.

It was winter around the corner, the young and old gathered to feel the warmth of the cracking fire, lighting the faces of shrieking dark. The young looked into the fire, taking a journey to memory lanes haunted by inner conflicts. Then she without fear raised her head, her eyes full of enlightenment, she spoke.

I hear voices in my head; torn apart by my own desires, each siding with what seems right at the moment. “you have the right to be angry” one says and another says “Don’t dwell on your past, its not worthy of your future” and yet, another says to forgive him but, I’m still lost somewhere at infancy, rejected by his mind before his mouth, words I never heard exactly but it must have been terrible,  sucking my very existence, denying me of an identity and changing my fate. What should I do?

The young looked at her, astounded, a flash of pain feeling their eyes, they too longed to speak yet cripples to silence, their mouth not obeying their hearts. She nodded to one who took courage and he spoke.

A friend of mine I told, she said to let go; what is it with the world, dictating how you should feel but, are we not all entitled to hurt? We are only human, bleeding when we fall and crying when in pain, cruel in helpless situations, happy in moments of bliss. It’s hard to act a part when it’s not cued. I should at least know why he left that way. Wasn’t I a gift? Tell me, I wasn’t and I will stop lashing out on irresponsible fathers who abandon their children and later apologize, but that doesn’t rub all the pain off, does it? Coming to me when I’m living a better life with every stone of hurt forgotten. Is it right?

The old listened, their eyes filled with wisdom, molded and kilned in past experiences. Exchanging looks of despair as the young poured their hearts to oblivion, their grey hair swaying towards a new future and they spoke.

Time flys so fast but, healing takes time, turning every scar into beauty spots. It’s not easy but, the world will say you are weak, unable to withstand the hurdles that lie in wait but others have gone through worse… you don’t need to explain your self for hurting, you can’t be stereotyped for  wanting closure because that that is your process of healing. Don’t be someone else, approved by the world when your soul is raining blood, sorrowed to the core. Ask more and more, answers are always there and the right one will heal you. Go on asking the world why certain things happen and you will get closure, sometime within you and sometimes within others but, it is foolish to continue asking when you have the answer hoping that someone will tell something contrary to what you know, something contrary to the truth you keep. The past is not always a weapon of distress, an Achilles heel, if used right, you can create a mountain, a fortress out of it.

Everyone says it’s easy until the York is upon them, everything looks fathomable when it is a fate of another but we learn to stay strong when we are the ones fighting and that is a perk of being a warrior so that when you age, a fire of wisdom from your youth will have fallen on you, enlightening you to teach the youth of that time.

Fortune favors the bold

“Phormio” playwright by Terrence
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