Then She Whispered

I sat in my aura of self-content, basking in the sunshine that dove its way past my window. My warm skin gave way to the sweat born of heaven’s gaze, and I smiled broadly at the warmth received, a warmth welcome after such a harsh winter’s game.

Then she whispered.

She whispered tortured pains of a million days ago, creating words that suffered again and again in persistent swirls of melancholy. Through the battle-tested armor the tides of hidden flames burst through. Words flew like daggers through the air, disturbing the bright sunlight with their shadows, landing everywhere.

She had learned to cleverly disguise her pain, standing firm against her own judgments by sprinkling sugar it its salty sea. She could smile though the agony, create masterpieces in the refuse of a long field of dreams, and bandage her wounds which such skill that even the worst of them looked healed.

And then she’d whisper.

Gone were the joyous words of a peaceful mind, replaced by the viper’s venom as the little girl in her sought vindication. In the throes of agony created long ago by a Child who had no choice but to make them, she spoke. Her tears cradled the Little Girl as her mouth swore oaths of heated vengeance. Vengeance that she reaped upon her older self.

Her body broke down in the undercurrents of such distaste, her heart gave out in the storm she only pretended was over.

So, I smiled. I was happy to meet this tortured, angry Angel. I had always suspected her existence, but now I got to meet her in the flesh, in the shattered pieces disguised as daggers on the wall, their shadows distorting the awesome spring sunshine.

So, I smiled. I did not fear this broken Little Girl, who often disguised herself as a Woman I no need, nor desire, to fix. My smile was, to her, like a cross to a hungry vampire, causing her to dive deeper until, suddenly, she could only sink to the roots of her despair.

Then, she whispered.

She whispered words of truth, her choice made to forgive that Little Girl; the Little Soul who chose their words of hate. The Little Mind who blamed herself for those random acts of violence. The Little Heart that beat strongly against their sworn oaths of  savage belittlement.

She could not forgive them. They were forgiven the moment she forgave herself. The Little Girl had taken their punches, their torture, their savage words of hate and made them hers. The Woman let them go, and then that bars around her fell, sounding like chimes lightly dancing in a summer’s breeze.

Then, she whispered. 

Never in the annals of human hearts have such beautiful words been uttered. Never in the history of mortal man has a soul sung so loudly. The world around her became her playground, and as she lost the things that bound her to the places of wartime battles, peaceful fields of surf and sand were found.

And I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Little Girl, my what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

She whispered in her laughter words now echoed in her song. She let go and took flight…

I’ll see you in the spring.