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A Peaceful Purpose

From my creation, all I have known is darkness and chaos. I am at the bottom of this box, crushed beneath the weight of those closest to me. I can see nothing, and hear little but the wailing of children and the squeak of wheels on a hard surface. I do not know how much time has passed; it could be a few hours, maybe days or weeks, even a month, since I awoke here. I have not been moved once since leaving the place of my birth. But I know I am waiting for something extraordinary to happen; something all of us here anticipate with great excitement: the fulfilling of the purpose for which we were made. I don’t know quite what it is yet; I don’t even really remember what I am, exactly. I must simply content myself with waiting here, at the bottom of this box.

A sudden movement, followed by a chorus of excited clacks, disturbs the endless waiting. In the next moment, I am thrown from side to side, slamming mercilessly into the walls and the members of my family. If I had a mouth, I would be screaming in pain and joy at the same time, but sadly I cannot.

We are traveling somewhere, but still there is no way to see anything. My world is still enclosed in these six walls. There are three questions that burn in my inanimate mind: what am I, where am I going, and what is my purpose?

Light is all I know; blinding, searing light as I tumble onto a table, cold and unforgiving. My brothers and sisters lie around me in a chaotic pile. I can feel many hands reach for those around me; voices clamor as if in some sort of game.  There is laughter and teasing. I begin to wonder what this place is, and if we are fulfilling our purpose. Hours pass, and still I lay here alone, not knowing what is being done with my brethren or when it will be my turn to meet their same fate.

Suddenly, the voices fade away. The light is turned off and I am left wondering. A clock ticks somewhere nearby, but otherwise all is silent. I am torn between fear and sadness; have I been spared some untimely fate, or have I been forgotten and left behind? Yet more pressing than this are three questions that crush my nonexistent consciousness: what am I, where am I, and what is my purpose?

With no great fanfare, the light comes again, followed by the sound of shuffling feet and quiet whispers. I wish I had eyes, that I might see my surroundings, but my maker created me to be blind. Suddenly, I feel a hand enclose me in its grasp; but though I expect to feel cold and clammy, instead I find that warm, gentle fingers are embracing me. I know now that it is my turn to meet the fate of my family.

A breathtaking silence sweeps across the vast expanse of table. I can feel colors all around me; bright sunny yellows and brilliant baby blues, deep royal purples and delightfully tasty greens. I slowly begin to comprehend that my brothers and sisters make up these colors, woven together by a master artist to work as one body. I finally understand our collective purpose: we were not meant to lie in a chaotic heap but to be arranged in special places meant just for us as individuals. As for where I am, well, I can be anywhere, and as long as I am doing what I was made for, then I am home.

There is only one more question left unanswered. What am I? Then, like a sudden, rushing wind, it dawns on me: I am the final piece of this puzzle. 


~Britta

Also feel free to comment on what other people post to help encourage them to keep writing

First let me start this post by saying my poem An Unfinished Story is just that unfinished. I wrote at a time in my life when i new that there was something better than drugs and drinking but i did not want it in my life at that time. Now that im no longer living that way i feel refreshed and so i wrote another chapter.

An Unfinished story, Chapter 2
And now that that chapter in my life is over
its time to start anew
the fear of what might happen is pass
and only the joy of what has happened can be seen in my eyes