Lamentations of a Lost Voice

I do not know when and how it happened, but a part of me is standing at the shores of a wide ranging river. The rest of me left behind at the other side. The sense of loss is immense as we stare across into each other. 

Trying to make sense of why am I here, and there, split and a mere reflection of myself I feel lost. I look down at the ground I stand on willing it to speak and give me some answers. 

The earth’s stony silence back reverberates loudly.

My sense of incompleteness is overwhelming. I feel like a hollow and broken version of myself.

I lift my hands reading my open palms hoping to uncover some truths on my predicament. Nothing is forthcoming.

I ponder for a moment if its answers or, the right questions that I seek.

I remain unsure.

I look up and back again to the other me and try to call out but no sound comes... I try once more and the words formed remain unspoken piling up at my throat... 

Instinctively, I reach out to touch my neck, then face towards my lips and discover in horror my mouth is missing. 

Both hands now on my face desperately searching instead find smoothed out skin with no signs a mouth ever existed there in the first place. 

Doubt and fear floods my mind. Where did my mouth go? Did I ever even have it?

Yet, the memory of words expressed lay persistent in the back of my mind.

I began to recall not just my voice, but how it sounded. How it vibrated through all of me as it seamlessly wove meaning to my inner thoughts, expressions and desires. 

The strain of the unexpressed words is building.  As the sensation grows I look down at myself and notice more of me is fading. It was as though the more muffled I grow, the dimmer I get. 

I sense danger.

I look back up and across to the fragmented me beckoning, mouthing the words...

“Come back to me, to you.”

 I know what I need to do...

Looking down at the ranging waters flowing past me I hesitate. The sheer force and swell of the water currents threatens to wash me away down river to the unknown. 

Even so, the desire to step in and wade across is much more compelling. I take a breath, keep my gaze on my destination, shrug off my trepidation and take the plunge and wade.  Each measured wobbly step closer to a reclamation of my voice and my wholeness. 

My voice will return to me, its on its way. Of this I know.

Here goes the journey to return to wholeness...