Another weekend and off we go. The hour is early and the road is long. Just like school, the rules never cease. Go here, don’t go there, be quiet unless spoken to and don’t interfere. Do as you are told, perform your tasks, only to be reminded that I didn’t perform well. The one who went before me is a superstar. The one who comes after me is a beauty queen. I am the one in the middle, the one unseen.
My heart once was tender and eager to please. Now it is simply bruised beyond belief. There’s so much I want to say, if only someone would listen. If only I could be heard, I would feel understood. Questions within me are answered with your doubts. Displays of anger are reflections of your rejection. The connection that we shared in the days of innocence has been eroded by your control and your pride.
The One in the middle is crucified by ignorance. The cross upon which he hangs was formed by others. From the precipice of death, he cried out in pain. It is not from the things that pierced that held him immobile, but his ache to let love win you over.