The Serrated Stone of Lost Belonging

Sura:94: The Expansion

Have We not expended for you your breast,
And eased you of burden,
Which weighed so heavily on your,
back?
And have We not exalted for you
your renown?
Then surely with hardship comes
ease.
Surely with hardship comes ease.
Therefore, when you are free from one task, resume another task.
Ans seek and strive to please your
Lord.

I have neglected posting on this blog and consequently therein also neglected variant components of self.  As a survivor, the necessity of externalizing penned emotions is crucial in order to heal.  When repetitive thoughts of the perpetrators' abuses are the dominant focus of your day too much positive energy is drained from the body, the mind and the day; consequently again yielding control of ones' vibrancy to the perpetrator. When you walk pass a beautiful flower and the sight and scent of one of nature's most magnificent wonders goes unnoticed the survivors is denying self. As I stated in an earlier post, I am going to start putting excerpts from my novel in this post.  It is still very emotional for me to edit and read some of my novel which can invokes unhealed traumas.   Nevertheless, stagnation suffocates the ability to move forward and live a full and productive life. Sometimes, painful emotions emerge more when I read my journal writings consequently, personally, giving life to the words of my novel. In any event one page of the novel follows.  I am not  going to give an explanation or set-up the page.  The words and action on the page should convey the essence in themselves. Here it goes:

From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice Page 19 
   
     The next time Aleah  awaken, the horrid incident which involved the broken soda bottle intentionally placed in her running path did not come to mind. Rather, on this morning which was presumed to have  followed the previous night, the first lingered thought to penetrate the spirit of this forlorn child was the image of a pair of pink shippers.

     Within the first few seconds of predawn, Aleah momentarily felt herself cloistered in the stabilizing security of her own loving family.  Maintained temporarily with the emerging backdrop of early morn was interlaced her true identity. While clutch in the subconscious jewels of semi-alertness, the gentle child remembered the experience of receiving parental care.  Cradled within the mystical arms of the sacrosanctity of initial light, there was no reason to yearn for the sound of her mother's voice.  The first rays of daylight had not yet awaken the harsh trauma of her abduction. At this early hour, loneliness did not hover like pernicious smoke nor did the serrated stone of lost belongings.

     Yawning in a mantle of sleepiness, Aleah released an inward howl, mother, mother was the repeated mental cry.  Then, like an abrupt surge of noxious fumes, she became suddenly awareness that in this place of barren walls and rug less floors, there would be no pink slippers.

     Yet for a moment while wavering between flexing states, Aleah awaited her mother's strong embrace and loving smile.  During these precious semi-lucid seconds, Aleah remembered her mother's mimicking gestures as she imitated her child's every stretch and yawn.

"From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice."  Page 20

     Aleah attempting to maintain her nurturing memories produced mental archives of the past.  Unlike sticky cotton candy or melting chocolate, her cherished memories instilled more than temporary pleasures,.  Indeed, these priceless recollections developed into an inexplicable of emotional safety for this captured child.

     In the earliest period of predawn, Aleah did not suffer the affects of the captors' rudeness nor were her every actions critically scrutinized. 

     Unfortunately, for Aleah the mornings of private moments were very rare. Often sleeping past dawn her mornings would begin with intrusions into the room where she slept.  A door kicked opened, books intentionally dropped, balls repeatedly bounced, paper bags exploring, balloons loud popped, dresser drawers opening and closing, these were the sounds which introduced her to a new day. 
     Giggles and snickers from the children of the household would soon follow, "Wow, whatever those men give that girl to make her sleep like that must really be strong.  How can she not wake up after all that noise?"

     "Did her eye balls move any while we were making so much noise? One of the children asked. "The men said we are to see if her eye balls move any while we are making noise.  When her eyes are closed if there is movement under the closed lids, she might be waking up". 


     Today is June 12th, 2020, seventeen days after the death of an unarmed Black Afro-American man at the hands of four Minnesota police officers.  George Floyd is the name of the man who pleaded for his life while his hands were handcuffed behind his back, laying on the unsanitary concrete ground with one of the four police officers' knee on his air way; causing asphyxiation and of course death.

     I haven't previously posted news events on this site but the horrid criminal death of this father, this brother, this friend deserves acknowledgement.

     When an ideology, a philosophy, a creed, a powerful political self-interest usurps the value and identity of a single individual the whole of humanity is weakened.  As a survivor of an ideology whose political self- interest justified the dissipation of my civil rights, my human rights, my legal rights, my spiritual rights, and my sacred footprint, it is impossible for me to comprehend how it is not understood that when a butterfly flaps it's wings in China the vibrations reach New York.


From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice Page 24

     An amateur harpsichordist, Aleah's mother played and listened to music throughout the day. Yet, when she woke that fact was not recalled.  The evenings in her home were often filled with her father's musical passion that being classical  Spanish guitar.  Ravel's rendition of Bolero was practically a daily experience in this home where music seemed as essential as linen table napkins and freshly cut flowers.

     No, instead, in this forcefully transplanted existence, there were no sounds of classical music, no sharing of pomegranates, nor the scents of sachets of potpourri contained within every opened bureau drawer. 

     As her petite legs continued to dangle between mattress and floor, again she realized there were no slippers, Aleah placed her bare feet on the cold uncovered floor.