Rude Awakenings

Again the drums, beating against my chest. Again the drums, throbbing in my ears. I will myself to rise from the sleep I have once again awakened from, yet my strength once again has been taken from me. Unending moments seem to pass as I struggle against my languid and heavy being. And with every ounce of will left within me, I rouse myself again.

Teary eyed I rub my face, trying ever so hard to recall my dreams. Weakly I shiver, trying ever so hard to remember what warmth felt like.

Yet as I swallow the stale spit in my mouth, my memory yet again fails me. I stare at my hands again, reflecting on my past sins. Thinking that if I corrected them as I remembered them, my curse shall be lifted. But again the drums. The drums whose sound is not heard but felt, whose music is like ice cold fire. Drums which I hear whilst asleep & awake. Who plays the drums?

Smash! Smash! Smash! Smash! Says the clock as it tells me the time. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Says the faucet as it begs to be closed. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Cries the beating of my heart as it pleads to beat no more. Crack! Yells my bones as I stand from my bed! Bang! Shouts the lights as I flip them on. My blanket thunders as I fold it, my bed screams and shudders as I shift my weight from side to side. The floor explodes as I trod upon it, the birds shriek as they sing in the twilight. The dawn wails as the sun rises, the breeze howling as it dances past my window. But then the drums cease! and again it is quiet. My mind fogs & my breath stills. Confused, I look around searching for the drums. My body numbs and reminds me of my fatigue. My lips chafe and remind me of my thirst. My eyes dull and remind me of my sleep. My heart aches and reminds me I still yet live. Again I fall back upon my bed. Again I curl myself beside my pillows. Again I return to sleep. Always surprising is the coming and going of the drums. Even though I have grown accustomed to these rude awakenings, still it surprises me and fills me with dread. I dread, for I know I shall wake once more to the beating of the drums.

What are these drums that plague me? What strikes them and lets loose their sound? When will I cease to hear them? When will I be given peace? Drums why do you wake me now? Why only now not then? Why in my weakened state do you decide to torment me? Why so fervently do you assail me? And yet why do I seek thee when you disappear? Why do I fear your passing? Why does my mind bleed with uncertainty and unrest when I feel thee no more? . . . . .

The drums are my hopes, great and wonderful. The drums are my dreams, distant yet within my sight. The drums are my memories, painful yet comforting. The drums are my loves, unconditional and intense. The drums are my Raison D'etre. It is my soul that beats the drums, unyielding. My soul beats the drums, unwilling to relinquish their existence. They wake me from my stupor, to hurry me along my path. They stir me from my numbness, so I may dance to their beat once more. And as I come to this truth, I realize that the agony of my waking was to return me to the living. Now I understand the nature of my plight. To be so rudely awakened from my slumber is to harken to the call of my drums, the essence of my being. For should my hopes, dreams, memories and loves fail to shake me from my trance, never again shall I awaken.

Destroy my peace once more I implore thee, my drums! So that I may wake again into another morning where you await my embrace.