Hands,
Pruned, slender, red,
Reached out.
They can’t get to me, I thought.
No, they can’t,
My walls are too large,
Strong.
These walls, I hide within them,
Under them, inside them.
Can’t breathe,
For they block the air out,
But its fine, I think,
As they block the hands out too.
And then there are speckles in my eyes,
Flame tinted dust burning my orbs from the inside out.
They’ve done it, a harsh realisation,
And my walls are gone.
I feel the hands now,
Ready for one to reach into my throat and pull out my voice,
For another to tear off my ears.
I expect them to rip me apart and leave nothing behind.
They don’t.
Mind numbing silence,
And then a soft caress.
A hand wraps itself around my neck, pulling me forward.
I feel it again. The fire, this time it only prickles my neck,
Turning it a light orange hue.
Another hand,
And another, both hatch onto my wrists,
Tugging at them,
Until I am free.
No sooner does that word touch the tip of my mind that I feel it.
A stream,
Running from my mouth down to my chest,
Back up to my mouth again.
And again.
Back and forth, back and forth.
It continues this rhythm,
As I slowly remember the sensation.
I felt it once before,
While putting together my prison,
Breath.
And with this realisation,
I indulge in it,
In. Out. In. Out.
I forget about the hands,
Until another reaches right into my chest,
And into what might be my heart.
It pulls something out,
I fail to see it as my eyes still feel the remnants of a fire burning within them.
Whatever they took
Must’ve been hot,
For suddenly I feel a fire move with my heartbeat.
But it doesn’t burn,
Not even a prickle,
Nor the slightest temptation to flinch.
The realisation has sunk in.
The hands will not hurt me,
They did not tear apart my refuge.
They were in my corner,
Fighting me out of my prison.
The sensation of heat remains,
For I now know what started the fire.
A spark, of course,
The only way of starting any flame.
The glimmer of hope in my heart,
That had wished I would find a way out of the walls within which I hid,
Had found its companions,
Starting a fire strong enough to ignite me.
I wish.
Wish the bruises to never dissipate,
So that my heart never forgets of the spark it used to hold.
The spark that attracted others,
Shaped as hands they might be.
With these comforting thoughts,
I settle into the earth,
Ready to enjoy my newfound treasures.
One hand on neck, one resting on the ground,
Feeling my heartbeat at a steady pace while my lungs pump like they never have before.
In. Out. In. Out.