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Healing

In the Spirit


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It’s 4am. The sleepy woman is jostled from her slumber by muffled voices raising the night.

Her bedroom window is open. Through a fog of sleep she is convinced the voices are coming from in front of her building.

“You ain’t shit! If you leave best leave my fucking keys too! Believe that!” The voice was connected to a woman, she sounded young, black, unpolished.

“Don’t none of this shit belong to you, I leave, it leave, you’ll be on your ass in this bitch!” His voice was full with indignation. He sounded young, black, unpracticed.

She could hear struggle in his voice. An uncertainty from trying to maintain a stranglehold on his manhood. He was reluctantly but with fervor standing up to her verbal challenges.

Their voices rose and fell in pitch darkness. The sleepy woman couldn’t pinpoint their origin. She tried falling back asleep but their argument attached itself to her.

“Don’t touch me! You touch me and you’re ass going straight to jail!”

Crash.

Did he hit her? The woman shot out of bed and ran to the window. Eyes scanning her neighboring windows in the darkness of nights edge.  Most lights were off.

Crash.

She felt a thump beneath her feet against the hardwood floor. They were in the apartment below her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t wake my kids! You bed not wake my kids!” The voice was screaming, it was moving now.

The sleepy woman’s feet paced with the voices, she absorbed vibrations as they filtered through the floorboards. The voices became louder and angrier alarming the sleepy woman. 

“What if he kills her? What if he shoots her and kills her?”

Their argument escalated into the wall of her bedroom. “What if she tries to hit him and they fight? What if the police come? What of the children?”

The sleepy woman wanted the argument to end, she wanted them to stop saying harmful things to each other, she wanted to know which apartment they were in so she could intervene and tell them what happens when emotions become unbalanced, unchecked, uncensored.

Her own anxieties were rushing to the surface and a crest of tears exploded in her minds eye.

She wanted to…she needed to…she had to…she put her hands on the wall reaching deep into herself to touch the voices climbing through the pipes.

She uttered not a word aloud, silently she plead, “Father God, merciful, master”  She could feel her soul unlock “Lord over day and night…”pressing palms against the wall as voices became angrier; her eyes closed with unbridled determination she hastened, “send your spirit of forgiveness, send your spirit of compromise,  send your spirit of communication…”  Her tears were falling now “abound this place in love and logic, Father God, send your spirit of patience and pause into this man and into this woman…” she could feel the hair raising on her arms “give sight where none exist” a shock of energy began rippling through her body, “give healing where scars stagnate, take away competition and leave an openness and light of hope” Her spirit shifted and stirred within. “Dear God pour my heart into these people and give them a Birdseye view of what could be, of how things can go horribly wrong; horribly fast;  slow them lord, slow them so they may stop to love.”

A force of energy sprang forth from her body, penetrating the wall encompassing the atmosphere.

The voices subsided.

Silence.

He was the first to speak. Subdued, unsure. “Hey, I just said what I said because you said what you said. Umm I didn’t mean it really.” She responded.
“I know, I don’t know why I got so angry…”

Silence.

Overcome with fatigue the sleepy woman’s hands slid slowly from  the wall. She crawled back into her bed knowing rest would not come easy.  Pulling her comforter around her shoulders she closed her eyes having nothing more to give.

For now.

About The "SoKey" Experience

Each morning I wake I pour myself into a goblet, slowly inhaling the scent of my own faults, swirling them around the glass, allowing them to breath, then I sip, allowing my own inconsistencies to soak my tongue before swallowing. If I am tipsy from my own frailties - I'm less likely to become drunk on yours. -SoKey (introspection)

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