This realization hits me. My eyes widen. My heartbeat thunders. My breaths become short and rushed.
As long as no one is here, I don’t feel like a small flower in a field where it’s almost invisible and far too easy trampled down. I don’t feel suffocated like all the people around me expend every trace of oxygen. I don’t feel their piercing stares and their whispers on my back, taunting me, harass me.
The morning will come back. The fake warmth of the people will follow. The loneliness will be gone. The safety will disappear with it.
Nothing is going to change it, to strengthen the glass I am made of. I will still be the vulnerable, tiny glass figurine which can be broken with less than a gentle breeze.
I have come here before the sun announced the day’s beginning. Now, after the sun has retired, I still don’t move. My mind won’t leave this place. Actually, it can’t. With my interest still drawn and fixed I chose to stay where I am.
Green grass covers the small oval shaped clearing.
In the morning softly shining water droplets have dampened the emerald. Like diamonds they shone. Maybe that has been the reason why this place seems to be so precious…
Who am I kidding? It’s something else.
Diamonds could have saved people from poverty. Even if I don’t consider the fact that only the rich gain something from them – and not the ones who would need to – … even then they are worth nothing compared to all the stories and memories. Nothing. Not even the beauty they rose to claim.
Inviting shades of orange, rose and pink took the last warmth of the day with them while leaving me by myself. No matter how long I train my unseeing eyes on the transition between dark green and the all surrounding midnight blue. The warmth won’t come back. The sun took it away. The beauty made of strong golden rays has been a mere facade to fool me, to hide the resentment, the truth…
A cool breeze caressed my skin. The lack of warmth now somewhat comforting.
Would you have asked me before I would have firmly denied the feeling of safety and loneliness to depend on one another. Now, still being here, watching the night revealing another kind of beauty – the true, mysterious beauty of the clearing – I would agree.
Beauty… The ghostly glimmer of stars seems to sing the songs of lost and haunted souls. The moon watches over them all. A guardian who would always remain with them – no matter what happens.
This beauty is so close, so clear… and yet an unreachable secret of the night.
When the morning will come again, the warmth will be back, shadowing this feeling with its light. The feeling to be safe and sound. To be wanted at some place and to be able to stay there without having to flee.
The morning will come back. This feeling will go away.