The Answers Unknown

The day was crisp. The season was early spring, and the sun was shining in a way it only can during that specific time of year. I sat for hours along the boulder-filled bank of the Skagit River, just watching the water flow past. Across the way, a bald eagle perched on the top of a broken-off tree. The quiet peace stood in stark contrast to my bustling morning of packages, humming conveyor belts, and the sound of my own voice yelling directions as we raced against time.

To race against time seemed silly now, as I looked out at this mighty river—its banks perfectly crafted over millions of years, long before the silly distractions of man.

There are some who sit alone for the peace of being alone, and there are some who sit alone because they are alone. To be the latter is to know true despair: to stare out at a magical river and have it reflect back loneliness. She runs big, strong, and united; in contrast, I sit along her banks—insignificant, as others have for centuries. In the clock by which the river tells time, my life will be lived in just the slightest ripple.

I clear my lungs with a deep breath and wonder, for a moment, if I should scream the air out—to yell out my frustration, my fear, my discontent. To put the world on notice in a way that I’ve never found the words to say. To address those who bully without regard, and the friends who take advantage of kindness.

But I find myself as afraid as I’ve always been. I could take the torment, as long as it didn’t mean being alone—that dark place where no artist’s brush can reach to paint a lie. A smile here, a laugh there… keeps the world at bay. But not in the darkness of the soul. It knows.

It knows.

How I feel.
Who I am.

It knows. And to hide is to ignore and return to status quo.

But this day is different. Maybe it is the day. Maybe it is the man. Or maybe I’m too tired to fight anymore. The fear of the dark is real—but today, I welcome thee.

Hello, darkness, my old adversary.
Have your way with this broken spirit.

We said nothing, but the sobbing said otherwise.
A broken vessel does not a thirst quench.

Nicholas Campos