What does darkness sound like?

Openness is hard for the self sufficient, the wounded, the woman filled with  determined self preservation and yet it is the thing I yearn for, the thing I strive to be...to  be open...the one thing, after obedience, my Master demands of me. 

I try, I struggle.

Its like dipping your toe in the cool waters of a still lake at sunset............you see the ripples slowly spread across the surface of the water, altering the picture created on the lake, moving floating objects,making floating leaves dance, changing shadows, distorting images. And if you peer into the rippled water, you see your reflection, altered, facets of it changing moving, developing......................until you no longer look like yourself.............and for that brief moment you are , to yourself, unrecognisable.

And once again I have been in trouble for the same thing..not being open.

We are at present, thousands of miles apart, and so online, on the phone, is how we have to communicate, and its hard................and for the last two days to every question of "how are you?' and "how are you feeling?" the word that i have used is"fine".....................this is not what he hears...............he hears what my heart speaks late in the night, in the aloneness, the quiet moments, and he pushes and pushes, probes and probes................until he has to resort to pain to get me to open  up.

The hood is something he uses, and I hate it, its not dark, its not tight, its not even tied, but I feel myself shutting off inside, like lights on a stage closing down at the end of a show, hearing my breathing, trying to slow it , until it slows and I can hear it no longer, and I begin to wonder if I am there at all..................and I wait to hear him, any little noise.wishing.............and I hear the silence and it is black and the black is silent.

And I wait..until all I am doing is waiting and breathing.................and I fear hearing him because I know what will follow.................pain...........and questions............and pushing........and probing...............and making me.........open up................. and when I finally answer his question , after an hour of pain, the tears pouring down my face, sobbing, gasping for breath.....................he says.................."why was that this hard to ask for?" How do I answer that? the answer fills my head; letters, words, phrases jumbling as they drip  out, unseen ................asking for more when someone gives you so much, although its not "more" , its "different" what I need..........................something to make the feeling of time and space between us diminish.

And for a brief moment I long for the darkness again, when all it was about was breathing, and then a lightness fills me. He is right; being open is so much better.................it doesn't matter what happens to the ripples on the water...they are out of my control .It is him that tells me to put my toe in, how far and when to take it out again.It is him who manipulates the distortions, the shadows and the changes and it is him who makes me what I am, without him, how would I be who and what I am.

..and what did I ask for, what did I need? I needed him to leave me more off lines...nothing more,,,time differences make life difficult and somehow 12 hours is warped into 20...that is all....it was easy really......all I had to do was ask.