The Cross We Carry
A short story in poetic prose by Deborah Grace Luikes
Lights, camera, action! Ready everyone? Put your masks on. Armor up, hearts away. Don’t let them see your blood-red face, or they may just throw you in a cage.
And as you walk down this road of life, you are tried, tested, stoned and beaten down. Asked what is the matter by the very ones who spatter their hurtful and disempowering words upon you.
They run for the door as the tears roll down your face. Scared that your pain and vulnerability may be contagious. The pain catapults as you watch the movie of your life and don’t like what you see.
You thought that they loved you, you thought that they cared. At least, that’s what they said. It turns out that their roles were deceiving, even though you tried leaving. Take a step back and look deeper, look closer.
When you are on your knees, they kick harder. Attacking you from all angles. Their in a trance, unbeknownst to you. For they know not what they do. Consumed with their roles and practicing their lines.
As you lie defeated, they sit at the high table, blind to what is being repeated. They see only the surface; it’s burning inside much like a furnace.
