SILVER LINING
Maybe I was standing still, listening to the shallow breaths
roll over my lips. Hearing the silent indictment of the
emotional triggers set off by mere spoken words. Words,
strong or weak, can sometimes reflect the deep fractures
caused by human suffering.
This is all so familiar. Being immediately transported back
to a musty closet and dark spaces in the mind … still
and silent in the whirling sands of time. It is easy to hold on to
the anger and rage, even while being comforted by the
understanding Spirit of tomorrow.
Maybe I was standing, listening, still. My thoughts scattered
in the imaginative mental skirmishes to know peace, to feel
peace, to stay peaceful when encountering a soul that is
actively practicing its suffering. I am keenly aware that these
spaces are created for me to see myself in others.
Giving no power to those unrelenting whispers from my
ominous past. Standing firmly inside the created
consciousness that has become my acquittal from hair
trigger responses. A mental-emotional sanctuary so designed
to remind me of the immediate harm and destruction a
suffering soul can cause.
Maybe I was Standing…Listening…Breathing. | SLJ
STRESSLA LYNN JOHNSON WAS BORN APRIL 9, 1957 IN PORTLAND, OREGON. HE HAS WRITTEN POEMS AND JOURNAL ENTRIES AS MEANS OF HEALING. STRESSLA IS A MEMBER OF THE OSP EDITORIAL BOARD
