I heard the sound as if it was a ricocheted bullet rebounding from some far away target. Bouncing back with a loud, deafening reverberation. The echo of it roaring through my head in wave upon wave.
I wanted to cover my ears with my hands, bury my head, and curl up like a fetus to protect myself. My chest was burning and heaving with the rhythm of a hollow drum.
I didn’t think I could stand it.
In fact, it was so long a foreigner to me. A lost loved one who came knocking at my door after years gone by.
Oh, it wasn’t completely absent. No, there were times when it skimmed the surface. Brushing the air with a fraudulent response appropriate for the moment. An expected courtesy. The nod of the head. The curling of the lips. The forced, broken tap, tap, tapping from the back of my throat.
Faking my way not feeling much of anything.
Doing what normal people do.
I knew it would have to come eventually. I knew I could not avoid it forever. In truth, I intentionally put it off.
I buried it deep into the ground. Covered it with dirt. Placed a stone at the head of it and engraved it with sacred words.
Six feet under.
When it unearthed, I was completely caught off guard. I imagine those around me heard the exaggeration…felt the desperation. Wondered why I clutched my stomach and bent over with the force.
Thinking I was a bit mad.
Once it started, it would not stop. Rails and rails of chained up tension came rising to the surface. As if it were set free. Cut from its shackles.
Raised from the dead.