There is warm golden comfort in my life, a blooming privilege that I treasure like the pleasure I extract from a love song I hear and adore that I can play over and over again but then I confuse with what I really desire.

What do I truly desire?

This question is whispered like soft background voice in my heart, every time I breath, quietly by an Angel holding my hand even when I point out a feast at an imaginary enemy at a demon racing in my head that my eyes project onto the screen of my life, all around me images that frightens a little child left behind, afraid of growing up abandoned by reason.

When anger comes up and I am asked what do I truly want? I cry the fake tears of rage and a trace of salt on my face burns leaving red marks that communicates the words I want justice, I scream as I eject this fire of survival out of my mouth, I want to be heard. And all that is seen are flame burning away the golden comfort I so treasured. In truth I want to be safe and I long to be recognized as a safe anchor for the one I see standing tall blocking my way to freedom, disguised as a solder at war.

It is only when I can not hear the question that I use my worst weapon, a mechanism fabricated to make sure that the pain I feel will be shared and not held in hands alone. I enter a space where I am a victim this time facing my deadly enemy and roles get switch depending on what game I play.  Pain flying across the room invading the air, filling my lungs, holding me by the throat, a heavy weight of this dense energy is pressing hard on my chest.

What I truly desire is this powerful yet gentle fluidity of safety to flow in and out of me that appears like a clarity in my heart so pure, so vast and open, transparent and ever so soft and solid at once which is felt in the presence of a infinit moment of peace and oneness.

 

What if I forgot how to love you?