Seeking asylum in a sea of quiet from the noise of silence that has surrounded me of late, has disturbed the norm.
Incessant pain has distracted my view and rendered my patience virtually absent as I go about my day with a routine that has become second nature.
What causes this I wonder as the days on the calendar fly by and take us from youth to maturity to the age where the body begs for repose?
Why is it that the brain draws thoughts inward and the outward reaction of our daily audience becomes less and less relevant?
Why should I care about an opinion when mine is the only one I’m going to employ in the end?
Why waste the energy to engage and entertain the contrasting point of view when being understood was never one of my goals?
Instead, I retreat and take a step back avoiding all conflict, since even with myself at the helm of the idea I can find challenge.
So I stop and engage only as much as is needed because anything else will bring the pain, the perpetual physical hurt that merely needs time to heal.
Each breath letting an usurper into my body to press and prod, moving things through the push and pull of the involuntary inhale and the inevitable exhale.
I wish I could exit my body through the entrance door, but instead I have to inhabit this container of hurt until the ache subsides and the noise of reality becomes palatable again.
Standing brings relief until I have to tell my brain to tell my legs to tell my foot to move. Sitting brings relief until I do anything that brings a turn to my neck or to my waist. Relief comes and go like a passenger on a train seeking transfer from one line to another line and never making it to the intended destination.
So I wait.
I wait for the moments of relief where it all appears to disappear.
I relish the silence that comes with my relief.
And I wait for the moment when the relief doesn’t exit quickly through the trapdoor that injury repetively opens.
Relief will come…