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Desolation

Begoña Montesinos

    Moving closer to the edge is to be my ultimate manifest destiny which is inevitably cursing my soul out of feeling devastated.
    Those were to be her last night words, her ultimate desire or should I say her last epiphany?
    And here comes desolation again, her black clouds embracing her now, not allowing her to see the truth within, that of the brightest light. Not allowing her to feel a little bit of hope, dressing her pitch black inside.
    Irredeemably.
    Thus every little step forward is to turn her back to ground zero: that isolated area of empty land which is winning its place in her weak heart now. It seems as if she were to feel how the earth is moving under her feet: her unable to reach safe ground.
    Unwilling of the time, she is not to be aware of the shining time ahead of her darkness.
    Ambushed by silent evil forces, she’s trapped in the middle of an infinite war zone and her ghostly army seems about to surrender at any given moment.
    Isolated inhabited zone which is to eerily threaten her at night and froze her silent hours, making her feel the devilish clock which is mercilessly beating in her ears at night.
    And she’s praying for time. For time to definitely freeze.
    Silence.
    But here comes uncertainty again, pulling her to the deepest abyss where her dreams are to vanish and turn into million ashes. “I’m losing this war”, she sadly told herself. And then it came deadly silence again.
    Desolation.
    Bringing iron fences down, unlocking more doors just to see herself at the starting point a few hours later. Wildly knocking on open doors now. Who is to blame? Where is the faith in herself? Who will be held responsible for her excruciatingly emotional and physical pain?
    Fear rising.
    Mercilessly shaken to the bone, barely breathing now. Trying to walk on treacherous mud but her path is shrinking, making her feel terrifyingly vulnerable again. And the tide is growing raw, unstoppable, uncertain of the fear within. Fear is everywhere, undressing her soul. Her mind is stuck in a deserted highway.
    She’s broken inside.
    Desperation makes its way into her fragile body.
    Left alone, hardly walking; crawling just to reach her well-being, just standing up to be rapidly thrown to the arid road once more.
    Unbearable collateral damage constantly resetting her very personal inferno.
    Stop. Listen. Can you hear her lament?
    The diabolical sound of the underground is maliciously calling at her door and it’s determined to succeed.
    Time elapse moving fast towards her gigantic mental twister, breaking her, scaring the hell out of her. Moving faster now, running over her, turning her world upside down, entering a ghost town where the only inhabitant is to be dead inside.
    Where is the compassion? Where is the love? Where is she at?
    Trying to escape from the predicament, she finds herself preaching to the No Ones: living in the abandoned sanctuary of the unknown.
    Desolation.

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