If the walls that surround her could talk…they’d tell you this…

“There have been some who have hurt here before, but this one…she is lost, she has no hope. She’s confused and scared, ambushed by many, and she is cornered. Her eyes dart back and forth…she’s lost in her thoughts, unable to make sense of her world. She doesn’t know which way to turn or where to go. She’s alone. She has no one to hold her. Her husband leaves her feeling empty and cold. He is unsafe. There is no love or kindness from him. She cannot feel it.”

“She’s a child…but she’s not. She cries in her sleep and she screams out in terror. She lays still with eyes wide open, frozen, while the touch across her body transports her to a world of confusion and distress. As he moves about her, his words smooth and sly, the panic rises inside of her and she is overcome with anguish, no longer able to take anymore. She trembles and cries, curls up, and is unable to speak. He looks at her and says simply, “you’re ok…”  and turns over, leaving her, cold and alone again. He’s blinded by himself, she’s not ok, but he got what he wanted from her. She shakes, trying to gain control, and wonders what she did to deserve to be so hated. She wonders why she is so inadequate and if he’ll ever really see her. She feels used. Invisible. No one sees her. No one rescues her.”

“She escapes from her reality and cries out to God. She clings to the pages of His word, caressing them methodically back and forth, a momentary calm washes over her. Her peace disappears when they enter..searching for her companionship. She breathes deeply and returns to her tasks. She worries she does everything wrong. She feels like she’s failed as a mother. Her confidence is waning. Nothing she does satisfies her. She counts the minutes until her fingers can run across those smooth pages again. She is weary.”

“He sleeps soundly next to her, oblivious to her heartache and pain. Her chest heaves as she tries to breathe. Tears flow freely. The nights are hard for her. She’s afraid to sleep. Her pen moves furiously across pages and pages…pleading through unending prayers night after night. She finally relents and closes her eyes but her mind races still. She is so restless.”

“When the light peers in at dawn, he moves about in a fury and she startles out of her dreams. Her breaths are short and labored as her heart pounds through her chest. He leaves her and walks away in a rush. She sighs deeply. She’s a fighter. She rises again, embattled, though weak-kneed. Her shoulders hunch over somedays, weary of what’s ahead. She disappears into her day and we wonder if she is ok…there have been some who have hurt here before, but they have escaped. But she…she has no hope. She is confused and she’s scared. We surround her. We protect her. We hope for her because she can not.”

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20 thoughts on “If Walls Could Talk…

  1. The Panther by Rilke

    His gaze against the sweeping of the bars
    has grown so weary, it can hold no more.
    To him, there seem to be a thousand bars
    and back behind those thousand bars no world.

    The soft the supple step and sturdy pace,
    that in the smallest of all circles turns,
    moves like a dance of strength around a core
    in which a mighty will is standing stunned.

    Only at times the pupil’s curtain slides
    up soundlessly — . An image enters then,
    goes through the tensioned stillness of the limbs —
    and in the heart ceases to be.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is heartbreaking! I hope you are not still living like this! The memories would be hard enough!

    (FYI: For some reason, even though I am following you, your posts do not show up in my reader. And your blog is not on the list of the blogs I follow. So I am going to unfollow your blog and refollow to see if this corrects the problem. )

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh no! I am so sorry to hear this. I was in a crazy world for many years. And I do understand. This is your walk! And the last thing you need is any more pain or misunderstanding on top of what you are already facing. You need to be and say and feel whatever it is that will help you survive. I hope I can be a support to you through this.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m sorry, Secret Keeper.
    That doesn’t seem like nearly enough to say.
    I don’t know what else to say.
    I don’t know exactly how you feel, but your beautiful writing gives me an idea. And I care. And I wish I could do something.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Great writing, the kind that pulls you in and you feel deep in your soul. I’m so v sorry that you’re going through this, but you are strong and your writing is your justice my friend! As it is mine. So keep writing! Please know you always have a friend or listener who gets it if you need one.

    Liked by 1 person

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