Tethered - a song of myself

Tethered; chains of pain and misery - heavy of heart, pupating, subjugated. My soul yoked to an earthly body that no longer serves a purpose, other than to exist. A much older version of my once youthful self, I persist; hopeful that circumstance will change. Hanging on to what might’ve, could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve been. Longing for salvation from an aging, pain wracked- touché, a tortured existence. Karma- what a bitch- it hits hard; payback for a wayward teen who wanted to runaway from it all. To run away from all who want to tell you what to do. A fraction of my former self-remains, buried deep within exquisite memories- lies, all lies; my life was never quite exquisite. There were a few pleasant days and pleasurable events destroyed by hellish ones that dragged on and on, for eternity it seems. I have outlived all my lovers but one and many others in my life I cared about, only to wonder why… I lie awake wondering what keeps me waking in the dawn; surely, it is not the will to die but to live. Even in pain and misery, I rise. Obligations wait - defenseless little ones and animals that depend on others for their survival- why am I the only one who cares; I care too much. I long to be selfish, careless, rich beyond the gratitude of a child who thinks the sun rises and sets over my head. I long to think only of my wants and needs- they’re never met. A bluebird alights outside my window- its eyes stare, vacant- does it enjoy life? The evergreen bush sheds its old leaves only after new ones have sprouted- does it take joy in renewal? Rebirth in the spring, after months of dying and decay- does the joy of spring ring true. What is the purpose of life? Surely, it is not to live in misery… They’re questions I will never know the answer to; never get the chance to fully explore… I want to live life the way it was meant to be lived, not tethered to a guilty conscious when I gather joy from what I am doing… I want to rise when I wake without an obligation beyond emptying my bladder- beyond… what. What else is there? Nothing; there is nothing beyond a pallid penal existence strapped into the Queens Throne I’ve positioned myself in… always wanting to be- having been bred to be matriarch of the family. As the days grow short, I grow weary… tired, so tired… but I cannot give up; maybe there is a chance that one day, one day I will rise up and cast off this self-positioned crown; cut away the chains of misery and run un-tethered through a sun-drenched meadow… 

Song of Myself - Tethered © 14 Dec 2014 Susan C Beck aka Lila Beckham