From the nothingness behind her eyelids scaffolding birthed. Where a wail dared to cry a creative spring punctured and architecture arose. Hardened timber framed and fastened, while stones of old piled and puzzled to place. Sturdy as ever, despite the salt-licked erosion from years of raining tears. Encasements of marble, and steel gated, bronze and gold ornamented, cement fortified.
The work was familiar, fluid, kind as it was comfortable. Pollynn rolled her exhausted shoulders as she continued her construction. She placed her mental burdens down as the walls went heavenwards. At home in the archways and facades, losing herself in intricate details of the railings along balconies, and flourishes in her masonry. Her thoughts a brush, painting miradors, connecting walkways, holes and cracks to spy away from safety. Pollynn borrowed and stole from the films she'd seen, ideas were leached from the ink of her favourite books and the meagre amount of travel she'd had in the old world following graduation.
There was peace in the build, comfort in the cold solitude and safety of impenetrable barriers. She swam in tranquility while watching the mortals from the distanced isolated perspective of her vistas. Pollynn yawned, her breathing regulated and body shifted. The frenetic pace of her building thoughts eased, the dust settled, and she allowed herself to take stock of the landscape from above.
Interruption came in a clatter. Her cellphone's buzzing vibrations, rattled it across the floor, snaking towards her toes. Carried with a gusting sigh a fast finger rejected the call, but not before her home screen reminded her of the mounting number of rejected ones. Pollynn pitied the climbing number, how sad to be so afraid of oneself, of your own company. To look to loneliness as a punishment, rather than a joyous opportunity.
From the walkways in Pollynn's mind she lifted herself from the floor and moved to an inconvenient armchair placed beside her favourite window. With her feet tucked under herself she curled into a tight ball, and watched the pedestrians pass, neighbouring lights illuminate, and strangers go about their business as they returned home. As it so often did, her dark hair found its way to her fingertips, its wild strands wrapping themselves in comforting knots.
Waves of hurt cascaded over her consciousness and she retreated back behind her eyelids. The gates held, the tides subsided, and Pollynn began processing the memories. The facial expressions, the cadence, and assumed procession of thoughts, they all went under her microscope. Not even her own actions escaped the scalpel. Where did things sour? When did it happen? What clues and flags had she missed?
Clouds passed above, morphing from one form to another. Sheltered calm gave breath, and ease became a key she used to unlock herself. The more Pollynn investigated the more her emotions transformed. Despondence became sorrow, flipped to anger, exploded to fury which burned off to fear, melancholy, and back. Pollynn rode the waves, allowing herself to tumble and wash within the surf until she was ready to stand, and watch the cycles from high above in her towers.
As the dance became more recognizable she conceded to complacency. Shielded by the walls from outside eyes Pollynn let herself move uninhibited. The Sun shone down through the glass, and her cheeks rosed. She knew these movements, their familiar patterns. Their steps struck faster, and faster, until all at once they broke. The song stopped, her performance ended. There was no were else to go that wasn't repeating, which she had no desire to do. The last beat had fallen on criticism and rancour. Crucifying those who'd inflicted and infringed, recoiling at their cowardice. Her eyes opened, fingers twirled a lock, and she sat still under the dotted skyline.
And who might carry me? The lonely thought within called to the wind. You will carry us all, hold the weight of our tears and yours alike, answered the unknown. Pollynns shoulders slumped not, they rounded and raised, holstering the burdens comfortably.
A shadow sifted as a cloud curtained the Sun, and the window reflected back. As if tattooed across her body Pollynn could see the blueprints of her walls within. The careful calculated measurements, artistry, and fortitude. Under the chalk rather than a joyful creator she saw the hypocrite. One who'd pushed herself beyond inspiration, to the safety of tested tropes, and lazy cliches. Yes, to the untrained eye there was beauty. The structure more than served its vaulting purposes. It detoured rather than dared those on either side of the gates. Oh she knew the rooms, she knew the space, knew the comforts, knew the days forth, and knew that it was all too easy. Pollynn could stay the same, stay safe, or she could grow. To stay, to hide, would be as timid, and gutless as her work.
As the rays incinerated the corners of the cloud Pollynn emerged, and stood from her seat. Palm on the glass she drank in the light before returning to her kitchen table. A thick spoonful of honey glopped to her mug, a dulling knife drove through spongy lemon skin as she sawed thin slices, scattering citrus across her wooden cutting board. An element sparked, the kettle boiled. Scalding water poured over a fresh tea bag, diffusing the honey, saturating the bright tangy peels. While the concoction steeped, Pollynn dismantled.
The safety of her fortress wasn't within its walls. It was inside of herself, with the creator that could choose courage. She could continue to construct the guarding towers with seamless masonry, or drop the facade, and build herself back up should she crumble again. The acts were closer in spirit than she hoped. Storms would arrive whether she was prepared or not. There may be a bit more comfort tucked away, but she'd survive them all the same. The choice to live, and do so fearlessly struck a deeper chord, freeing her to criticize the cowards afraid to sing, or rise themselves. She stirred and sipped, packed and clipped. The calls would wait until the walls returned, and tucked away. Her gift of calm would come from peace within. When she was ready, to those ready, to climb upwards with her. Let the magnitude of the journey dissuade the unworthy rather a fence become a barrier to them all.
Thanks for reading! Be sure to check out the previous 12 part collection of Zoditraxx, and consider the other side of subtle dualities.
-Mr. Write
PS: Be sure to check out Exaggerated Shadow’s new release for Oh, Carry Us on all your favourite streaming platforms!