Broken

The following is a probable work of fiction, drawn from the author by a melancholy mood.

She stepped outside of herself, turned, and looked back at the woman she is at that moment.  She locked eyes with herself and gazed deeply into the depths of deep chocolate brown, looking for the answers she’d been unable to find.

Somewhere along the way she’d lost all perspective of who she truly is, what she wants out of life, what she was put on this earth to do.  She’s a mother, yes, but is she the best mother she can be?  She is a sister, but at times feels unworthy of the unconditional love she receives. 

She is a wife, but in title only.

Could this be the source of her unease?  Why she’s been facing each day with something close to ambivalence?  She stares at her physical self and wonders that if her fate had been different, would she be happy?  Content?

Would the simple love between a man and woman make her a better person?  She thinks possibly, yes.

As she gazes upon her true self she wills memories to come back to her.  She tries to remember the last time her hand had been held.  Such simple contact, barely touching, but which links two lovers and makes them appear united.

She looks deep within herself, grasping at the past, searching to recollect the last time she was touched, even fleetingly, for no other reason than her lover wanting to absorb her essence.

Had there ever been a time when he looked at her, no, into her, hoping to discover just one more of her hidden secrets?  When he looked at her, studied her, hoping to sketch every line and dimple of her face into his memory to carry with him until the next time?

Had she ever been kissed?  She thinks back over the many years and knows she has been, but the touch of a lover’s lips on hers is completely forgotten.  She’s unable to conjure that feeling of feather soft lips caressing hers, warming her from the outside, in.

If she can’t have even have the fleeting memories of these times, these emotions, does that make her barren inside?  She wonders, as she gazes at her self, “Am I deserving of that kind of love?  If I am, why hasn’t He blessed me with it?”  But then she realizes that He has blessed her with that kind of love.  It just wasn’t meant to last a lifetime.  She knows now, that from this day on, she has to learn to live with the constant ache of that lost love.  She knows she will never again feel the rush of new love consuming her every breath.  She will never again know the feel of a lover’s lips, or hands, or gaze.  She knows for certain that never again will she feel safe and cherished.

She realizes now that the only true love she will ever feel again is the true love of her Creator.  And although the thought comforts her, it also brings her anguish.  For does not every human being deserve to be enveloped by the love and adoration of another?

 

Justine – 5-19-09