The Moment
There’s a moment we all share. It’s eternal like a first step or last breath. It stays on the tip of our tongue with a shudder. And although we walk around the park smiling at the people and sunshine happily; just to the rear left of our brain we sense the moment hiding in the woods.
It’s ever present. Like a shunt in our brain it’s there. Never growing or shrinking, not shining or dull, it’s just there as a reminder that the end of our tongue and tip of our fingers are placed to late.
Taking back one moment in the infinite number of moments in our life seems futile. That one time you wish it was a dream instead of wishing a dream come to life. Is it really the moment we share?
Noise has defined my life. Sometimes the memories have voices forcing me to blurt out an utterance to make them go away. Sometimes their subtle, silent reflections of that moment I couldn’t take back. The walls only last in the moment and disappear in my open mind.
I’ve collected these moments over years. The younger ones either don’t have voices, or hide behind a black sphere of what I assume is protection from the reality of trauma. Others are pictures decorating the space I live. At this point I live with them like the spider web in the corner I ignore for months until I deep clean, but the web returns over time capturing new memories of forgotten moments.
The memories in the sphere of darkness are interesting. They don’t speak, nor do they have form. Just a feint feeling of a larger trauma I know is there, but fail to conjure words or pictures for. It feels as though it’s on the tip of consciousness and on the other side is solution. It seems a forbidden space.
At times it feels as though my world would be forever altered if I made it to the realization. I ask myself how this space could be worse than the memories I can’t take back from the tip of my fingers or utterances; then it occurs that maybe it’s the source of the moments and utterances I can’t take back.
The familiar mantra of, “your grown now, you gotta just move on!” echoes eventually making the whole process seem futile. Am I hiding from myself or something looming larger. I still don’t know.
I sometimes wonder if these moments get resolved in the last breath before death. Some moment of personal accounting where moments are resolved and my spirit rides free of moments. Maybe life is all about moments and striving for a balance.
I’m sort of afraid of the moment those memories on the top of my brain get revealed. And what will I be without those memories I can’t take back or words that will echo in time. Will I find silence or is this part of being human. Even writing this is talking in my head.
chrysalaneous 