She moves slowly; taking cautious steps away from that space of distress as she confronts her future in its dim bright promising form-calling her softly, luring her steadily into a place that shines bright with reform. Reform to her soul, her desires, her wishes and her thoughts as they perspire-diffused through pain, shaken with guilt, burdened with uncertainty but still silent with truth. And so she decides to face the words that wounded her, to confront the promises that failed to protect her, to destroy the lies that tried to disguise her-and as she digs deeper and deeper, holding on to her heart’s fire-a fire that burns brighter and brighter as it twists in the hands of experience and is pulled through the pathway of existence dotted with the lines of faces that changed her truth, that spoke to her soul, that showed her the power behind her words, and slowly contributed to her shifting thoughts-she finally begins to see herself shine through this cloudy film of broken thoughts.
She remembers words that encouraged her: somehow their voices were drowned in this darkness that covered her-but now they speak louder and louder as she opens her ears to receive the wisdom they once shared with her. She looks into her thoughts and debates with her dreams-trying to figure out who she really is behind this dangerous façade of foolish schemes; this façade she fed and nourished to protect her but it somehow ended up betraying her; she had failed to understand the world knows how to smell lies; now she understood it had a platform that shielded truth-so ‘what was her truth?’ she asked herself-a slight whisper of uncertainty circling her thoughts. She no longer knew who she was behind this disguise she had made to feed the world’s applause.
But the lights grew dimmer, and she fell deeper into a place that was silent with judgment, with stares of disappointment, looks that pinched her back with stones of truth-words that whispered silently through cold eyes and said ‘I know this is not you.’
But the problem she faced was that she no longer knew her own name. She had gotten lost in a longing to please those around her: family, friends, companions she thought she could use to disguise herself behind words, and actions and even silence; holding them spellbound in a form she herself did not recognize. But she had fed this façade-this façade that cracked when she stared into the eyes of pain, a façade she could not hold up when faced with the rage of regret that consumed her-because she had entrusted her heart into arms that did not protect her; she had spoken truths to friends that did not really see her. And so they had stepped all over her-through their words, in their actions they had nearly destroyed her.
And in trying to build herself up in this burden of betrayal that bruised her, in trying to shield her heart from their words that wounded her-she was standing face to face with her soul-it no longer eluded her.
Somewhere halfway through the pain, buried in the guilt, silenced in the space where she refused to be consumed, her soul had seeped out and looked at her. That is where the light had found her. In that deep dark place where she no longer hid herself-where all her walls were broken, all her thoughts remained unspoken, she had finally cracked through the façade by mistake as she tried to shield herself from the storm that swallowed who she was. And in that river of grief, stress, pain and pity, she found her peace-she felt a release-and she finally saw the beauty in who she really is as she was birthed from defeat.
She realized society encouraged this portrait of women-a portrait she had tried to fit and had nearly strangled her voice in its mangled sound; she had come so close to suffocating her worth behind the pedestal of chains where society held women bound. In a picture that fed ideals of women that carried quiet words behind thoughts that never spoke, behind pictures that betrayed a personality that remained undiscovered as it cowered under society’s numerous advances for perfection, for a portrait that carried no images of revolution; an environment that suffocated a woman’s intuition, in actions that disrespected the quality in her disposition-that is how she had managed to build an image that so eagerly disguised her truth behind society’s lies.
But now she knew, some women come out of that shell no longer confused, after fighting and facing battles in their everyday rooms-rooms that housed relationships with family, friends and partners-she had finally come out birthed out of necessity to face her truth. And though the transition from uncovering her unique perfection was not so easy for even her to approve, because she had being trained in society’s school, she hastily removed society’s suit that held her constrained in a predictable pose because society’s stench had stuck so stubbornly to her clothes.
But now she spoke more boldly using her own vocabulary determined to let her true essence disperse into her dialogue and conversations; engaging her truth into her daily aspirations.
No, she was no longer shy of society’s schemes-she had finally realized a woman’s true beauty lies deep within-and it would be such a waste of time, and talent and truth to not let it speak into a world that understood her most valuable needs, she decided to live in a reality that did not need society’s disguise. Even though it so pressured her to hide, she finally realized there was no need to rely on society’s expectations to feed her desires-touching her healed scars that spoke of the danger of living untruths, she understood: this is a story of a woman’s true nature, her imperfectly perfect form-when speaking through her identity: she is so much more than enough.
Photo Credit: Dreamstime | Sdeva