Arabesque
“t dancing heart”
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Written by Freya Pruitt
Turn, turn, turn.
Spin with the wind.
Let your heart dance in the morning light.
Turn ... turn, turn.
Open your arms, and reach.
If you don’t look, it won’t hurt anymore.
Just ... turn, turn, turn.
Dancing heart, torn apart,
Your pain never goes away ...
Memories hidden and kept inside ..
Are always trying to hide.
Shattered glass fills the dancing heart,
with the graceful burn of pride.
Dancing heart, can never rest ...
It’s trapped ....
in an Arabesque.
We all have secrets. But some keep us locked up like prisoners.
The fear of exposure, creates a cold wall of fear. We become like
mannequins, living our lives with manufactured faces. We have a
forced smile, endless tears, or voracious anger: each fueled by a lack
of control. As we live our lives, our movements become calculated
and cold. We will do anything, not to face the ugliness. Beauty
becomes an illusion .... something only found in fairy tales. We
chase the emptiness, in any way we can. We fear we have already
lost our lives, so heartache becomes our only known comfort.
Sometimes it seems easier to stuff the dark memories as far down
in our consciousness as we can go. When we “trap” the secret, we
begin to chase the dream of freedom. But freedom seems like a
photograph, of what is truly real. The secret has its’ own desire, and
keeps our feelings locked like, cold ,blue ice.
Sometimes I really believe, that if I do not look at the truth, it might
go away. But, I just keep turning and turning, running and running,
spinning and spinning: just to avoid the memory. I wonder if it will
ever go away?
Everyone says, it was not my fault. But condemnation and guilt stay
buried beneath every feeling I have. I feel like I am on a giant wave,
swimming towards freedom, only to reach the crest of dead desire.
Is this pain really just a part of life? Does everyone feel this way?
Do people really love me? Am I really a good person, or am I damaged
forever? I wish I knew deep down in my soul, that it was really not
my fault. I wish I was forgiven. I wish I could forgive myself. I wish I
could forgive him. Sometimes, I just wish I was dead. But somehow,
life continues to go on around me. Will I ever find peace?
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