Like a leaf on a windblown tree.Crashing down.Down into some of the most unspeakable memories. Frozen in time.At age three.Age five.And on and on. Like riding a mournful blue train. I knew this train was coming. This slow train of pain. A thousand miles and lifetimes long. Memories braided tightly together,in hiding, unravel now. So many previously integrated personalities are back now. And it feels more like home. As I feel lost again. Lost within myself.
The past couple weeks, a few more new personalities were created. To deal with life. With memories. With soul-deep hurt. Traj was created. Their full name is Tragedy. And they were created to deal with the pain of all the others within. They feel the piercing of each wound. Depression is their breath. Like the weight of a hammer hitting a nail.And as they fall into it, they want to shut out every memory before this very moment. They see it as the only way to be able to function under the mountainous burden of such horrific memories. Since Traj’s creation, they have been working to erase more and more of the past. As memories chase us down. Some alters are going easily, into the amnesia. Others will never be able to forget.
And through the lyrics of all the wounds, Annie was created last week. I was shocked to realize an Annie had never been created. So Annie came. In soft footsteps. With love for all within. An inner healer, of sorts. She came, in loving memory of three year old Stevie’s Annie from long ago and far away. Gone too soon. And even though this new Annie isn’t the real one, her presence brings a calm. Like a mother to the little ones within. A friend to the others. She may become one who will be out alot. This Annie doesn’t feel the pain, like most of the other alters. Memories are a distant fog to her. Not attached to her. Not her memories. Not her life. No feelings towards any of it. Except pain, for those within who suffer. She weeps for them. But not feeling traces and rivers of the past, makes life easier for her.
And then, Journey came. They are distanced from everything, too. They are here to help everyone on life’s journey. They won’t feel sorrow or pain. They have no bad memories. They think they’ve had a good life. They are happy with a good sense of humor. This trek through the memories will be easy for them. They’ll just shut each memory out. Not claiming any.
Growing up as a scrawny, white, farm girl didn’t work well for us. So, at times, personalities were created, who seemed of safer nationalities. From other lands. And of other hearts. Envied. Let Broken Cloud come fully into creation right now. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Shy. Afraid. Here to help the others. Depressed at the work set before her. She comes with the scars already, from carrying the others inside. Sighing deeply. Born now. Broken Cloud. From whence all tears fall.
And through it all, the others watch. Little ones, weeping.As memories seem crowded together in a lost and found box. Down came the rain and washed the memories out. Take one out. Pass it around. Fall to my face on the ground. The past plays hide and seek with me. As I stand, lost within myself. Standing on the edge of the sandbox, trying to fly. Scared of the sandman. Little ones cry.
And so play the blues of the broken hearted ones. Lost in the song. Looking for a heart to hide in. Wading in the river of blues. Thunder falling from the sky. Play it loud. As my soul cries.