My confession. I was in pain. I cried
day and night, but no tears came from
my eyes until my pillow was wetted with
tears. I need help. Can you help me?
Pain! Pain! Pain! I cried and I cried, but
no tears came from my eyes. Hurt and
pain blocked the flow of tears from my eyes.
Pain, decribed in "Walden" by Henry David
Thoreau as "quiet desperation" and in "Lift
Every Voice and Sing" by John Weldon
Johnson as "silent tears" afflict me.
Silent tears, not visible to other people but
wells inside of me and at times, even though
not visible to other people, bursted forth
from my eyes at night wetting the pillow
on which my head lay.
My silent tears and unheard cry, if not heard
by someone other than myself, portend self-
destruction and possible harm that I am prone
to inflict on other people.
But should my silent tears and soundless cry,
at some place and time, are overtly expressed
and recognized by someone who loves, I may
avoid bringing destuction to myself and others.
I need help. Will you help me? If and when I
am rescued by love, I know I will become a
possessor of and be possessed by love. Then
I can extend my love and help other desperate
people to love and be love.
Interesting and psychological. I'm not sure I can relate. But then I have not experienced that kind of pain, and without experience understanding comes harder.
My Georgia Journal helps readers spark their interest with historical trivia and tidbits about Georgia. It’s an interactive journal designed to nurture creativity and self-motivation.
The second portion features one side for drawings, sketches, o
-- A decision delayed even one second is not the same decision --
A fascinating guided journey through your decision making process and cause and effect that will help you to think about your decisions and how your actions or inaction impa
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