On a dark day in space

You wont know the pain of language, until you learn it

In a conversation with my shadow, I could see how much they missed me. 

In a conversation with my reflection, I could see how much they wanted me. 

In a conversation with my fear, I could see how much they knew me. 

In a conversation with my loss, I could see how much we had chosen to forget. 

In a conversation, many things can be said and none of them need to be important. The conversation that  follows, is an interaction between a memory and a human body stuck in time.  

Memory: Now that is not fair, I did not want to speak. I was tricked by your own intellectual prowess. For a child you were very smart but your fear spoke louder. You betrayed us, you do not hear me complaining, bringing up the past. You left me behind and now you ask me, why do I speak? 

 If I was not your reflection, I would make you bleed.  You would gush desperately on the ground, mewling and begging for me to help with the pain. I would wait until we were both born again. 

The body makes a slow dramatic applause, the memory floats in a luminescent glow above the dark expansive space, the only light in this galaxy. 

Body: Poor you, I had to sit and wait for you to tell me the truth. I never wanted to leave you, I was forced too. I was dragged to the external world, kicking and screaming, it was the only way I could protect us. 

Memory: Is that what you tell yourself? 

Body: It is what I know. I did not want to leave you but I had to survive or we both would have died. 

Memory: It took me a long time to trust you and still, I think to myself what if they go. What if they leave me alone, what if I forget the feeling of their hand? What if they find someone more important than me and I am left to die in this eternity. Darkness all around me, when will you free me? When will you let the world know? It is not your fault. You were a child, you tried to make a sound but no one wanted to hear you stutter out your truth. You spoke but no one heard you.  

The room went back to being eclipsed. The whispers of the confession, making the dead wake and the living stretch their muscles. There was no denying the truth. 

Those who learn to speak will never forget silence. 

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