…And My Soul Cried Out!
As a prisoner in my own heart, I have sat here in this 6 by 9 foot cell, hoping against all hope and praying on all that is sacred to be freed from the turmoil that defines me. At the age of (4) four, I'd seen things that would make a (24) year old adult shudder. Degradation, molestation, forced penetration, mutilation, all in the name of "Love". Unable to express the overwhelming sea of emotions inside of me, the light went out, the walls went up, and the windows became bars of steel. A prisoner in my own heart, a death row inmate in my own mind and all dreams of a future . . . deferred. At the age of (6) I'd experienced things that those responsible for my care were either unaware of, unresponsive to, or they simply did not care. Sleepless nights, days of endless agony, pain beyond the scope of a 6-year-old's ability to understand, and living in constant fear of another male living rent-free-- in my mother's house . . . And my soul cried out. It cried for understand; that form of comfort that I thought would never arrive, it cried for acceptance, for it seemed that because of the stains of pain upon my face that I was marked as spoiled and unworthy of love or friendship. It screamed for the peace of death that I never could get in life, it screamed for death, but death . . . never came . . . And my soul cried out. At the age of (8) eight, I was a ward of the State of Maryland, a foster-child if you will. First overlooked when a family came, Second-hand shoes and a third rate citizen, seeking approval from those who'd already made up their minds that they didn't approve of me. So, a prisoner in my mind, I became a prisoner in a relative's home. Trapped by the fear of violence that I had experienced in mass quantities, trapped by the fear of isolation and the feeling of always being in a dark room, with a white hot light shining down upon me, exposing my sins, my pains, and my fears for all to see... and for all to scrutinize. And my soul cried out . . . It screamed for love that I'd never know, it never came. It screamed for the loving embrace of a mother who'd failed me, and who's embrace I never knew and would never know. It screamed for acceptance and not judgement, trust and not betrayal, nourishment and not neglect. Sadly, like all of the things that I needed most in my life, it never came . . . And my soul cried out. At (24) twenty-four I'd been around the world, to places that life had abandoned and hope couldn't penetrate. I'd seen just about all of the lows that a certain Kind of species can inflict in the name of love, that species being mankind. Alive and thriving by all outward appearances, but afraid, trapped, malnourished, and imprisoned still. Seemingly finding the love of my life, but when you've never had it, how do you know when you've found it, and what is more, how do you know that it's real? Still, living in agony, is a blessing that the void of death does not offer, so I smiled the smile, carried the load, laughed the laugh, and lived the life. For (8) eight years I did this—a third of my life, lived as a lie. The "American Dream," or so it seems, the house, the cars, the white picket fence, but the only thing real is the picket from the fence driven into my heart when the woman that I loved professed her love for another . . . And my soul cried out . . . It screamed for death that had eluded me (12) twelve years previously, it screamed for the bitter taste of revenge. Revenge that would serve no purpose and only produce so much more of the agony that I'd seen in my life. My soul cried out for it, but I couldn't deliver; I wouldn't deliver that which I know so very well. It screamed in the hollows of my mind for peace I've never known. It screamed until the echoes of my screams gained a life of their own and now the silence is more deafening than the scream itself. And my soul cried out. . . And my heart gave an answer: the pain that I'm feeling, there are others who feel it, even if they will not admit it. I found peace in the beauty that there are others who live despite the odds stacked against them and the weapons formed against them. I found myself crying for it seems the very first time because the love that I need must first come from within me. I re-invented my heart, and I learned how to love, and by doing so I learned how to be loved. I bask in the peace that there are others just like me, and I hope I can lead them to love. It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to wander, as long I don't lose sight of what is in me. In my mind the walls tumbles and the prison bars fell and I found I'm in Heaven, though I thought I was in Hell. My soul is now free; there's so much joy inside me, happy endings are real; I no longer have doubt. My heart sang with gladness ...And my soul cried out. By: Nate Booker, Sr. "Genius under Construction"