Knife in My Heart

 I stood at the sink,

pain lancing my chest,

sobbing silently,

tears blinding me as I tackled a mound of dirty dishes.

Exhaustion weighed heavy,

my arms like stone.

11:00pm.

I was alone, disconnected

Isolated.

I could almost see the knife

piercing my heart.

There was a name on the handle;

I strained my inner eye,

expecting to see my husband’s name carved in the wood

But No!

I tried to manipulate the letters but I could not force them to spell his name.

The etched letters

clearly spelled Melanie.

My eyes widened,

I literally gasped in shock.

Truth pierced,

dissolving the knife and the sharp pain with it into insubstantial mist.

 

I was the architect of my misery,

a dramatic self-made victim,

acting like a pitiful scapegoat.

Reality made me smile.

An inner switch flipped.

Misery slipped off like useless rags

The mountain of work thrown into the sea by a mustard seed of common sense because there was no mountain except in my self-pitying delusions of martyred grandeur.

Self-depreciating laughter,

Cutting through Stress.

A Strange Calm.

Strength.