The Room

Four black walls
No windows
Not windows as you would think
Not windows to the outside
But windows to the past
All over the walls like pictures
Each one opens to a different moment in time
A few good, some bad
But mostly pain
Moments of sorrow
Moments of sadness
Times of regret and guilt
Instances of doubt...
Periods of betrayal
Each one holds a memory
A recollection of a time
A feeling locked in each remembrance
All the memories of all the feelings
Every image begins to assault
There is no way out
No escape
No door with which to remove myself
No solitary, unoccupied corner to hide
Turning, looking, searching
It only expands the memories
Filling in the gaps between them
Until it becomes a whole, complete painting
A full window to that time
So real, so full
Even the tears, the touch, the cold can be felt
It fully assaults the mind
Threatening to consume all sanity
To break the mind as it did the heart
To finish what was started
Pressing against the opposite wall
Straining to become smaller
To not be noticed
A line of light runs down the wall
And finally the way of escape is shown
A deliverance from the past, a doorway out
A hand takes hold of mine and pulls me through
I step out of the darkness
Out of the pain, the memory
Into a light of healing
The wounds heal, but the scars serve as reminders
With back to the room
I face the light
Running from the past...
Searching for the future.

Chad Jones
26 June 2007