Heart behind a wall

Author's Note:

I have read a lot about how people have delayed reaction for "Brokeback Mountain" like I had. I had wonder about that, and some of what people said inspired my to write this short article about how I felt about the movie and why I have a delayed reaction.

A wall had crumbled without a rumble.

Unexpectedly.

And with it, came tears I did not know I had.

It happened the second time I heard Ennis Del Mar, having collapsed in the arms of his Jack Twist, said: "Jack, I can't stand this anymore." The words echoed into my heart. The wall that had been cracked and rattled the first time came tumbling down.

I too, could not stand this anymore.

Having been hurt once too many time, I had vowed never to be injured again. I built a wall to keep the harm out. I was safe. I could then look at the rest of the fools fumbling with their emotions with a cold smirk playing my lips.

However, the wall that kept the harm out, oh so stoically, also kept me in; a prison
of my own making.

The hurts and injuries weren't healed. They were hidden, covered like some ugly wounds that I was ashamed of. As time passed, even I had forgotten that they still bled, for then the pain had numbed me.

Numb as I had been, I could not feel anything when Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist first reached into my heart, loosened the wall and lifted the cover gently but deftly. I had glimpses of my old wounds, bleeding, crying, but I felt no pain.

But as the breathe of honesty cleansed away the unfeelings and the indifferences, the dull ache that was my wounds exposed became a sharp pain, as feelings struggled against the rough emotional prison that I built.

The pain caught me unaware. I was confused, and I must sought the answer. I went back to Brokeback Mountain again.

And this time, as the wall crumbled, I shed tears that should have been shed a long time ago. They were tears of all the aching wounds, all the ignored suffering and all the frozen misery. But there were new tears as well. They were tears of joy, of freedom, of celebration. For I was ready to fly again, despite the fear-inducing struggle before me.

Ennis Del Mar had taught me a precious lesson: Despite your effort to avoid them, the things you feared most were bound to happen.
Jack Twist then gave me a precious gift: The bravery to fight against, not others', but my own fear.

So there I was, standing, raw, among the ruins of my old prison. I sent up a silent prayer, gathered my trauma and pain, and transformed them into wings of courage and freedom.

And I soar.