Just a rest before I go

I need a rest before I go. It gets so difficult to breathe sometimes. I don't want to be in this time, place or body. I want to sleep. Sunlight hurts. Sounds hurt. My heart hurts. I feel the emptiness of loss and don't know if I can face another long season of ghosts.
   It will start again soon. The noise and the crowds and the dates. I have accumulated numbers in my head that all have to do with loss. They chime in my head as a never ending reminder of each chunk taken from my soul. I thought by now they would have been replaced.
   Can it really be that the years have passed so quickly that the wounds are still gaping? How I long for the ability to go outside and feel, with great abandon, the breeze upon my skin again. I don't want it to hurt anymore. I want to be whole again.
   I want to stop hearing the swoosh and hum of an oxygen generator reverberating in my ears marking the continuation of time like the silent sand in an hourglass. It tolls not for me, but yet it does. It slowly marks the passage of time until...
   I am alone again.
   I just want to rest. For a minute or two. Under the banyan tree safe from the sun and hiding in myself. I am invisible.
   I am safe. For a minute or two...or a lifetime.

© DD Corbitt