Whispers of Her Prayers

How long have I been holding my breath? How long have I walked this path? It's winding turns make no sense. One after another. There is no sense in this madness, only an interrupting voice asking where I would like to go next. Right, left, up, down, and through. The wisps of my thoughts drift like whispers carried on the wind, their fragile murmurs rustling the leaves underfoot, a semblance of who I used to be-- a child with her arms wrapped around her, cooing at my ownself and following the feeling in my heart and stomach. Alone. I was alone, through and through, never finding warmth unless I created it. I'm older now, and I still find my arms wrapped tightly around myself, trying to light that small fire in me. Only, now that small fire ignites into a blaze when I think of my loneliness, of the thousands of tears I have shed. Tears no one else would ever see, their salt lingering bitter on my tongue- a quiet sting that burns like the sharp scent of rain. My mind is heavy with the thought that I will always feel a small, barren part of who I could have been, but who is that? Years later and I still don't know who that is in her entirety. Maybe I will find her in a meadow, splayed out and urging the sun to glow a little longer as it sets. Perhaps, she will be perched atop a tree branch soaking in the light of the moon, tears running down her face as she silently pleads for it to stay. Whoever I am, whoever I will become, I allow myself to follow the whispers of her prayers as I walk my path. I know that God will allow us to meet when the time is right.