My Demons

I close my eyes, trying to block out the memory. But it is pointless. The landscape around me suddenly transforms into the all-too-familiar room that haunts my nightmares. I feel the cold air brushing my neck . . . its fingers scraping my skin. And then I hear the screaming. That is always the worst part. It isn’t just the fact that the wails pound in my ears, but the fact that I can feel the shrieks tearing my heart into pieces. They make my soul crumble and my life dim before me.

The screams grow louder and louder until they surround me, squeezing through my clenched teeth, slipping between my fingers, becoming part of me. I don’t bother trying to fight it. The next part of this torture, I know, is inevitable.

“Momma!” The voices. They send shivers up my spine. “Momma! Save me!” I dig my fingers into my ears, desperately attempting to shield myself from the voices. They creep closer and closer, closing in on me, awaiting my next decision. I frantically begin clawing at the air and kicking my feet. I know it won’t help. I can’t hurt these demons that are tormenting me. They have almost become part of me; an everyday phenomenon . . . almost.

No, I can’t touch them, but I can still fight them.

I open my mouth, letting my voice pierce the inky blackness of the room around me. And then I sing. I sing of goodness, something my demons can’t even imagine. I can hardly imagine it myself, but I have seen it. I sing of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters-- more things I will never truly comprehend. I sing of joy, friendship, happiness. I sing of the kindness a sister shows her baby brother. I sing of a teacher loving showing her pupils a whole new world for them to explore. I sing of greatness, or prosperity, of the most wonderful riches ever imaginable. . . . I sing of love. . . .

And I sing to destroy my demons.