Osmosis

This has some truth...mixed in with some fiction. I hope you enjoy my moment of osmosis.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's time for atonement," said the voice.

"What if I change my mind?" she asked.

"You don't have a choice," said the voice.

"What if they find me here?" she asked.

"They won't, you'll be in passage," said the voice.



*****************************


Carefully; she submerges herself chest high, in a porcelain wall of complacency.  The hand of hesitation, reaching out to support her spine during a brief moment of doubt.  Taking in a deep breath, she could feel the weight of the world; pushing her....forcing her down. Drowning beneath a raining cloud of purified osmosis.

Watching;  each pocket of air slowly escaping her lungs, exiting her lips.  It was easy for her to imagine each bubble to be a reflection of subconsciousness. A dreamy void blurred by a waterfall of naive perception.  Direct and steady, like a floating compass, moving her thoughts towards the blue curtain. 

Eyes blinking.  She observes the first bubble as it breaks open at the surface. The air around it, producing a faint whimper accompanied by many visions.  She could see her Father coming home.  He had strong calloused hands.  Beer on his breath.  A thick mustache.  Black grease with oil stains on his pants.  He looked like Bruce Willis.  And he laughed like Barney Rubble.  She loved him, as much as she despised him. 

Then there was the smell of cinnamon.  Her Mother always made the best Snicker-doodles.  She liked helping her mother sprinkle the sugar on top.  Mouth watering, she could almost taste the first bite of a warm cookie. 

Thirsty...the sweet stuff always makes you thirsty.  She draws in another quick breath; topping the cookies off with warm milk, filling her lungs with condemnation.  The flashbacks begin to contort and ripple, she hears her Father's voice, molesting the inside of her ears again. 

"Stupid girl." 

Oh yes, and she remembered her classmate Mark.  They were just 17, and he only wanted to be friends.  Maybe if only her ears were smaller.  The freckles on her face...looked like fire ants that wanted to race.  Maybe he preferred brown-eyed girls.  All she wanted to do was touch his smile.

Then there was a lovely vision of Tracey.  Her Mother and Father said she was just an imaginary friend.  But she was as real as any other friend.  And then one day, Tracey went away. That same year, the tooth fairy stopped paying.  The wishing star never looked so far.  The big dipper and little dipper looked like tiny droplets of rain that fell on an Easter Sunday. This precipitation paving the way to deliver her soul. 

She could see and feel the hardwood floor beneath her.  Pajamas on, sitting alone in her bedroom, biting her fingernails.  At times, all the chewing would even bloody up her cuticles. 

"Disgusting habit, " she could hear one of her Teacher's say. 

But it produced endorphins for her, it helped numb down her anxiety.  She often bit on the inside of her cheeks too.  Scratched at her scabs and sores until they bled.  But blood never bothered her, just certain sounds.  Like the door slamming shut.  Heavy footsteps on the floor.  The thunder in the night.  Her mother crying.

Her mother's tears pooling around her face as she watches; the second bubble.  It was quite small.  Filled with grief from being average.  Every time she spoke, she felt like an invisible whisper.   This bubble made no noise upon reaching the surface.   It instead just produced an echo of silence. 

Suddenly, a flash of light, she could see her purple shoes...her favorite pair of shoes.  It matched nicely with her purple hand bag.  The purple bag swells into a balloon, producing the last bubble. The biggest bubble.  It floated upwards slowly, as if it were reluctant to let go. The burst of air replacing the silence with many voices......

                                    "S**t."

                    "Worthless."  
          
                                   "Sweetie I love you."

                                "B***h."

                                            "Lazy."

                                 "Ugly."


                            " I love you."

                                                       " I love you."

                                          " I love you."


An echo upon echo of words.
She didn't get to say sorry to her Mother for spilling the juice on the floor.  And it was the day after; her Mother passed away so very suddenly.  The cause of death.  Brain aneurysm, she heard the doctors telling her Father.

"Awake now," said the voice.
 


    Opening her third

     (((EYE)))


she looks down,

and sees the place of baptism below.

Author's Note

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The process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas, knowledge, etc.

Reviews

[...]

. oh ... there are a million thoughts racing in my mind right now ... there are so many thought-triggers in the narrative ... i thought the title would be very challenging to justify ... but you've done great justice to it ... this slow unraveling of the narrator's mind is compelling ... i am reminded of my own journey and of the time when i needed to atone ... and then ... once i started ... i realized ... that in some ways ... life is a journey into the perfecting the process of atonement ... almost like an art form ... the way we perceive ourselves has a lot to do with the way we perceive our mistakes ... and the plight of those we might have wronged ... albeit not in a major way ... this piece of writing is like an intense experience of putting oneself under the microscope ... piecing together one's key influences in life through the subtle analysis of key events and characters ... and then letting go ... yes, the final note of this symphony is undoubtedly liberation ... excellent work ...

[Shaun Payton]

Stunning. A whirlwind or tornado of emotions, turmoil. We are stronger when we know no one can take our individual self, not ever, it os destruction in its most brutal form-self inflicted. You are truly a gifted writer.

[Damien Thibodeaux]

Wow, Muse. I don't know what to say. It was gloomy and sorrowful and deep. Your writing method has a way of making me feel all of these experiences. You just let us see part of what made you who you are. That took courage.

I'm so drawn to reading you. Your work is so unique.

[Priscilla Sayers]

I love you Muse....
I miss you.
I know that piece goes even deeper... Please stay afloat my Sweet Angel. I know you are such a brilliant writer. A wonderfully compassionate woman and you know I am just a call away.... Much Love. Great piece, i understand every bit of what goes through minds like ours.
Clear out the Demons that haunt you and know that I wait beneath the small spark in the center of your Precious Soul.

[Scott Metro]

Merry Christmas Miss Muse.
Came by for another read...well woven.


S.

[s y e]

It is official; you have left me completely at utterly speechless... I am so stunned by this piece. The journey you take your readers on is mind blowing! An absolute amazing piece for sure.

[Muse]

childhood...

it's funny how even in adulthood...it still provides inspiration for most of my writings.

[MsJewel]

Wow! You have taken me through an incredible journey and to be honest - I am almost speechless. I will say this is possibly the best written, most creative piece of poetry I have read here at WC. There is much to think about after reading your work - truly a masterpiece of poetry.

:) Julie

[Muse]

I'm honored. This writing left me feeling most vulnerable.

[Scott Metro]

Captivating...Excellent unwinding....Also I really like the pic at the top...captivating.

Scott

[Lucifer Jones]

I'm at a loss... So much to say and so many thoughts. An amazing introspective journey. The imagery is a wonderful ride. You paint an amazing picture(as always) You can smell cinnamon... "The burst of air replacing the silence with many voices......" The flow and train of thought here is powerful through your "many voices". Loved it! Again and again. Thank you for sharing.

[Muse]

The pain was self-inflicted. I tried to drown my thoughts...to be born again.

[Lucifer Jones]

I'm very happy your thoughts are still here.

[Art]

don't know how I missed this one Muse....a very insightful expression, one can almost embed themselves with you, whether reality or truth or fictional, it is filled with a bit of mirrowed thoughts, events that most likely some have experienced...overall an exceptional piece of work, emotionally creative...nice work ....

[Muse]

I think I felt the need to write this...

letting go of an insecure little girl.

[Art]

sometimes we just gotta let it go...

[avant security guard]

heavy--I like you music too--a nice combination--plus the photos--so, it is a really full package--we're lucky to have you here--it's surprising the site can deliver what you have to give--well done--your profile is awesome too