There was a sound in the night. It was a cry as if she was here, but I could not find her. Throughout the years, she never cried. Even now when she does, it is silent.
Because I know her heart, I can feel it, the confusion, the devastation, the temporary reprieve. There is a dimensional barrier that I have to cross if I am to console her. My callous recovery from my own trials sometimes make this as easy as passing through a solid wall of concrete.
So many times, for so many people, I have wanted to be the reason they found to look at things more positively. I wanted them to see the good in who they are, just like I did.
It is in the broken glass on the floor that I stop and ponder. I know that there was a difficult trial in this very spot. I am not interested in those whose boring and predictable lives have allowed them to live the dream. It is those who sit in the corner, knees pressed to chest, head down. I see you.
At one time in my life, I will admit that there was something in this consideration for me that was selfish, that somehow this allowed me to not look at my own imperfection and made me feel somewhat more worth something when helping others. Let me assure all, I have taken the express elevator to the bottom, and I learned a thing or two while I was there.
Today I am listening. There is a heart that I care for so much hurting and confused. Somehow, I have to let her know that I am here. For listening in the sad days and rejoicing in the happy days. I have seen all that she is; magnificent in ways that she cannot yet comprehend. But I believe in her. I always will.
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