You are a lion. Your folks told you so. They did when they discovered your strengths, and the zeal with which you maximise them. They observe, as you with finesse devour obstacles- a feat cowards despise. They are proud of you, of all that you represent. As your uniqueness glistens in their eyes, they fall deeper in love with you.
What they didn’t realise however, is that you do not share their sentiments. In your eyes, everything is an illusion. Your strengths. Zeal. Finesse. Uniqueness. . . Everything. You don’t feel like a lion. You feel like a chicken. You want to scream this into their consciousness. But your folks have gone deaf, deaf to your crows.
This however, isn’t a story about you . . .
. . . This is about me.
I am the chicken whose crows have been denied audience. A world that’s been accustomed to hearing me roar, can no longer come to terms with my expressions of fear. It lauds my feats, feats stuck in my past. Chants of greatness rend the air. Everyone is a merry soul except me. I’ve gone deaf, deaf to my roars.
I hear voices in my head. They make music with my insecurities. “You can’t achieve greater feats than yesterday’s, you can’t be all that’s been spoken about you,” they yell at me. Each day, I sleep and wake with a dearth inside. A vacuum. An emptiness that plunges me into frustration.
Yesterday’s feats are still fresh in my head. My many sails through mad waves, the trampling of obstacles and the handling of difficult tasks, leave my soul breathless. The voices in my head remind me of these victories, but only because they’re fading away.
Albeit, I find solace in my passions- in a voice that makes sonorous sounds, a hand that writes mysteries, and a life that’s filled with compassion, mending the shattered pieces of aching hearts. These three, are the yesterdays I still wake up to everyday, the passions that glow with each waking breath, waxing with strength. Still, I fear. The voices in my head says our romance wouldn’t endure these storms.
I do not mind crowing like a chicken, although I’d rather listen for my roars. I do understand that giants have fears too, insecurities, and flaws that are properly hidden from an awestruck crowd. It’s okay if life kicks my butts hard and win, as long as my passions aren’t defeated.
“But you’re already defeated,” the voice says. “I think so too,” I concur. This fight is gonna be long. I’m tired already. I need a break. I need warmth. I need a hug. I need my bae, Yahweh.
My bae is an observant lover, he can see through the smiles that mask the turmoil I feel inside. He is my biggest fan yet, his cheerleading doesn’t stop him from hearing my silent whimpers. One look at me and I’m stripped bare of all my facades. With him, I’m at liberty to quake out my frustrations, anger, hurts, confusions; I quake all out, convulsing with his power till I can feel my fears no more.
How long has it been since I felt his warmth? Not like he ever left me, but I how long? The negative voices in my head have driven me afar me from my love, but no more. The rhythm of his love his playing in my heart.
I will go and drink life from presence of my love. I will run into his hands and allow him coo me with the truth from his word. I will bask in his warmth, in the intimacy that boosts my confidence. I will standstill in his presence and watch as he looks into my eyes, squeezes my hands and whispers to my heart: ” bae, you can do all things. Fear not, We’re in this together.”