The Marshes had no Peace


These Marshes Bring no Peace

 I thought I was safe here, far from everyone and everything I know. I am alone, I cast myself from the horrid reaches of memories. Crowded between marshes and rivers, a place only I know of. Yet, here I am, shrouded in stress, in misery.

 But I have all things I need. I have my home, food, water, and shelter. I have peace, I have the silence of the night so that I may think. Yet, I am still haunted, haunted by visions of what was. Mistakes streak my dreams like a filth covered window of neglect.

 I hear voices of former loves whisper in the soft silence of nature. The frogs belch of memories, calling out names, out agony. The crickets, rubbing their legs together spread shadows of doubt upon myself during the humid heat of the night.

 I have no mirrors in my home. Why? For I feel a reflection of myself will only drag me back to what I miss. I dare not even look to the waters of the marsh except in the night. For there is not enough light to permit my reflection.

 Months, and I still feel the rash of my broken heart. It itches, and I have nothing to scratch it. I stay busy, I do, I keep my hands far from the idle thoughts of the devil. Yet everything I do, seems to hold to that which I wish to let go.

 Vanishing from the comforts of my friends and family, has done me no good service of any relief. I am still constantly strained with the turmoil of my faults, my commissions of childish actions. It has come to my attention that I may have made another dire mistake.

 Maybe the reclusive disappearance of myself was not the ideal expenditure for my soul. For I can hear it screaming out in suffering each night. My home is layered in jar of moonshine. My floors are cluttered with crumbs of food and a table that bears no use but to hold junk.

 I believe, even the creatures of the night find me repulsive or, at least delusional  in my existence. I thought, leaving behind all physical manner of my loathing would set me free. But from what I see, demons care not where you travel.

 Rather, they care only if you are weak enough to fall. To never face their grizzling teeth and rip their wings from their back. I am foolish in my attempt to be free. These marshes are no place to find peace. Neither is the constant ingestion of drink.

 I am alone out here, though it is quite indulging for me to be alone. I see now, that no man is for  such a thing. He loses his mind without conversation, you lose yourself to subtle thoughts, to subtle actions. Till you are drowning in what you ran from.

 A man without companions is a man without purpose. I am alone in these marshes of wild beasts. Even the creatures of the water are surrounded by their own kind. They can't even up and leave like I can. How terrible, forced to live where you are born.

 Traveling only by the instinct of your pack. Never able to find a better place for your heart. Enough of these lonely creatures. It is I who has brought misery with me and it is I who must drain it from the marshes of my heart.
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What have you tried running from that caught up with you no matter how far you ran?

Here, between the pages of, A Man's Traveled Heart you'll find more thought striking stories.
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words

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