The Sound Of Silence

Every night, as I lie in bed, I think of the day I have spent. I do not even think that I do it consciously anymore. They come flashing back...those memories...like a train hurtling through the darkness. Those moments are when the only one you have left to answer to, is yourself...

It is at those moments that you think of witty (belated) replies to caustic remarks...when what could have been is felt as sharply as what had actually been. Those moments, which relive other more painful moments, when the crimson taint of embarrassment refused to leave my cheeks, as I stumbled my way through an instance which I hope so very dearly, will never ever repeat itself again. And it is then, I think, with every human trait within me...what if?...what if she hadn't?...what if I could have?...what if?...and then amidst that silence, the familiar heat flushing my cheeks....a fervent prayer...”Please, please let it never happen again...let me never have to go through that again.”

And then there are the others. All of a sudden, I feel a familiar sharp stab of pain, right between my lungs...where I had always imagined your heart to be. The power of a sentence that had perhaps been uttered in a thoughtless feel of impatience...that had seemed to strike me at my very core. And I lie there, and think up six different retorts, each more venomous than the next. And it is then that I feel it...the soothing wave of darkness washing over my bruised ego...and the forgiveness of the silence. This time I close my eyes...and in my mind, stretch out my hand for help, “Please show me a way out.”

Those moments have a peculiarly naked quality to them. I are stripped of every defense that I have tirelessly spent my life creating. The most tangible and passionate feeling of all - anger - is ever felt, quite as sharply, as it is then, in the silence. A part of me blames bitterly the unresponsive silence...a reproach without reason...”Was there another way out?”...Is this then, what I deserve?...Is there all there is to life? Is this real?...and then, “WHY?...Why her?...Why me?” And the barrier shatters and the tears come...and with them, a gentle easing of my burden.

Then there are the sweetest moments of all...when the silence seems to savor along with you...and celebrate with you in shared joy. Those are moments when with rock-bound faith, you thank the darkness of the night with all of your being...because it is that familiar darkness, that wonderful silence which has been your raincoat during the downpour and your crutch through the twisted ankles. There is no further, a sense of the unknown, as you are filled with a grateful joy...at having, once again....been blessed.

Guilt is my least favorite emotion. Guilt is which you cannot be at peace with yourself, when you cannot ignore the possibility of being wrong...and when you cannot look someone in the eye. This guilt surfaces, with surprising clarity, within that timeless silence. The same silence you feel surrounding you at the moment you enter a calm and serene place. This is my silence, and here, there is no escape, no denials...and no room for turning away.

Over the years, I seem to have acquired so far, a peculiar impassivity to emotional stress and pain. It's as though you have this invisible shoulder to cry on. My moments in the dark and that silence to which I bare my soul...and that is the truth...that is, my shoulder.