I am thoughtful; and I am resilient.
I wonder how many unread books there are in the world.
I hear the buzzing of thoughts -
Some angry wasps - Some induzztrious bees.
I see a hive of questions - sticky ones.
I want it to be quieter in my head.
I am thought-full; but I am resilient.
I pretend that I live in a library that looks like a church
and the silence is real - inside - and out -
the buzz trapped
between hardback covers that I can choose to open and close.
I feel still, quiet, like I'm thinking with one mind.
I touch the spines - some worn, some brand new.
I worry that some will get left behind -
I must keep my eye on them to keep them all safe.
(Not enough eyes, even with glasses).
I cry when I think of being left behind in a room I abhor.
Not all of the books are happy here.
If only re-reading could change the ending.
I am full of thoughts; yet I am resilient.
I understand that thoughts are just thoughts - mere subjects -
memories not present - mere echoes.
I say "The past is gone. Right here, right now, I am safe."
I dream that one day, when I call this to the night,
the same words will come back to me - safe, safe, safe.
I listen, listen, listen.
How come the echo of 'safe' sounds so frightening -
an entirely different word from a monstrously different time?
"Fear, fear, fear"
What is wrong with these walls?
This is not how echoes are supposed to work.
I am full of thoughts; I am full of resilience.
Full to bursting.
These walls keep me safe.
But I cannot fix that damn echo echo fear.
I try to sit comfortably with myself, my present.
I hope that one day it won't feel
like sitting on a bed of white hot nails.
"The past is gone. Right here, right now, I am -"
Listening for the echo,
I am thoughtful; and I am, god how I am, resilient.
-Written by Robyn, a Sweet Cavanagh Graduate
**CHECK OUT HER BEAUTIFUL JEWELLERY PAGE AS WELL**