just below

Its bubbling just below the surface, so shallow its amazing that no one can see. Assuming anyone is looking to begin with.  It hurts to see he isnt looking, especially not at me.  I have to smother it, make sure it doesnt break the surface. 

This wound is so old and yet feels so fresh every time. I stand in this church and I mourn him still...22 years later. I try so hard to remain in the present to be supportive, be aware, be respectful to this man, to this family, but I'm 13 again and none of it feels real...again.  Like I'll wake up and everything will just be a dream. I go through the motions and I say all the right things but I dont feel real and my mind is not here.

I dont think I've ever learned how to mourn and it becomes more and more apparent every time I become trapped in those moments and those memories again.  It pulls me under as I try so hard to be the life support for everyone else. 

What happens if I cant keep fighting? If I cant keep us all above water?

And it seems so inviting to stop trying, to give in. And the waves of loss, regret, worry, fear, anger just push harder as they feel my fight fade. 

In case of emergency, ignore

I'm drowning slowly in the ocean of unanswered questions with no vest.  And they watch from the shore yelling directives that are as unnerving and impractical as the floaties they tossed on shore for me in case of emergency. And im spinning spinning spinning looking for direction or a hand to lead to safety, sanity, support to no avail. I drift out further, the shore a mere memory soon and my leaders long since gone. They cannot see and I have to wonder if they ever recognized my struggle or if maybe they were just taking in the view.  

The office was built on a cracking foundation and each step forward also entails several swift blows to the remaining supports. I have bent under the pressure and have watched several smaller beams give way, but held fast and strong in pursuit of what is right, what is necessary, what is true. But their multicolored glasses see not the cracks or severity of the damage but only the sparkling potential that will crumble just as swiftly when the last of us give way.

The dust will settle and they still will not see as they sweep us all under that rug that is so easy to distract, to ignore and eventually throw away.