I huddle in lamplight that emanates gently from above, seemingly present only to wrap itself like a blanket over my shoulders. I am in dire need of the comfort. There seems to be a misunderstanding: I am not here to hurt anyone. From the get-go, from the very first breath that I took of this planet's less than fresh air, I only desired one thing. I never wanted the mistakes that are inevitably made within this accursed world, I never wanted the regret and misery that come with them. All I ever wanted was to love and to help, to be a warrior of light and a bringer of peace to my fellow short-term residents. At this I have failed, and my failure claws at my burning skin.
I know that I'm alone here. Eyes may try to pry through my veil of lamplight, but I know that the glowing blanket is an effective and impenetrable shield against them. I can stand here hugging my arms tightly to myself, holding myself together, in complete solitude. Never mind the blackest of mistakes I've made pressing in on all sides, never mind the red and burning pain that I have given others without intent. What has been done cannot be undone, and I know now that trying will get me no where. It does not matter that my sole desire is to set things right, better than right if I can. It doesn't matter that my heart has been broken time and time again by my own free will. All that matters is I've found this kind lamp to hold me here and to keep me safe. I need time to regrow the limbs that have been bitten off by the wounded dogs as I've tried to make amends. Here, I think, is the place to find myself again.
Seconds, days, months go by before I begin to think again. Time means nothing to the gentle glow and I. However, I soon realize that I am truly and completely alone. No one has told me what to do, where to go. No one has appeared to heal me or to hurt me. This revelation neither inspires nor discourages me. It simply sets my hitherto blank mind on the path of thought. I look down at my tiny self, soft and sore looking in the lamplight. Scarred. Torn. I am bruised and tattered, and worry touches my mind. Am I frightened that I've been injured, or am I afraid to know that I can be broken? That I am not, in fact, invincible. As I gaze down at my wounds, my eyes fall upon my hands... Bloody. The emotion this awakens surprises me. Rather than guilt or fear, I simply feel disappointment settle itself into my heart. The blood is, in fact, mine.
The truth hits, and it hits hard. I am unbalanced, and I retain my ground only through the soft warm support of the lamplight glowing around my tattered frame. No one has hurt me, and I haven't harmed another. The pure misguided intent behind my actions, the offense I've taken at those of others, these are the knives that have cut me, have made me bleed and cry out for comfort. The souls that suffer for my ignorance fall only at their own volition. I am disappointed at my little hands. Why have they blamed me for the pain of the world, why have they not defended the little body they were to cherish?
As these thoughts begin to flow through my dammed and muddied mind, the scars begin to fade. The cuts and abrasions, the bruises and the broken bones all melt away, leaving behind nothing but the warm glow of lamplight upon my skin. Finally, as I stare at the tiny appointed defenders in awe, the crimson of my self infliction vanishes. Clean hands.
After what must have been a millennia, what must have been no time at all within my tiny cloak of comfort, my muscles relax. I stand tall and gaze around me. Black and red still swirl and dance around each other, a mass still intent upon breaking through my glowing protection. I start as I realize there is no lamp post beside me, no glowing globe above me. Where has my lamp, my protector, gone? But the light remains, still soft and warm and hardened against the blackness.
I look down once more at my own form, still bathed in brightness, and it is now that I understand what the source of my glowing protection is. A little bubble of joy grows within my chest. It rises and expands until it finally bursts from me, becoming laughter and purpose. The glow, the safety that envelopes and protects me comes not from outside, not from above, but from within my own heart.
I feel the peace within me wash outward and the swirling chaos falters. I walk on.
