In my head there is a bleak darkness, a silent scream. No one knows, because no one hears. It is there though. Boring its way through my body like a worm through dirt.
Because screams are meant to be released, my body reacts. There is pain unlike I have ever known before. Putting on a brave front in order for others not to know how much it hurts, it becomes tornado like. A black cloud swirling out of control, sweeping away everything in it’s path. Sometimes, it slows, almost imperceptible, if the mind can stay busy enough on other things. It never leaves completely; becoming the fringe of the storm like some 60’s poncho edge.
I am asked, “Are you OK?” The reply is often, “I am fine. I just don’t feel well.” It is the truth, of course, but no person knows of the dark tornado waiting to gather speed to rip and tear pulling a house completely from the ground that it previously laid, strong and sure.
The storm cannot be hidden from all. There is the intuitive dog, that comes to lay his head upon my knee, whimpering under his breath. Knowing something is awry, but not knowing what, he dances across the room. Lies and becomes still. In a few moments, he is back, peering into my private space, seeing the fringe of the storm. This time he leans into me with his full weight, as if he can break away a part of the storm to allow just a pinhole of sunlight in. It doesn’t work. Tired from trying, he flops on the floor. His eyes flutter for a moment, then he sleeps.
The storm gathers more energy, trying to gather enough speed to again begin the out of control swirl of darkness. It becomes more and more difficult to keep it at bay. I know before too long, it will spring back to life, whipping and lashing in the futile attempt to release the silent scream.
