Unmoved

The hallway to the chamber was built for silent prayers to be reflected and heard. It is a form of self acknowledgment regarding the words one spoke, to be heard over and over again. Speech that breaks above a whisper is considered disrespectful, but volume doesn’t matter when the words are so callously released and armed like daggers.

Perhaps poison would be a better metaphor, as with a dagger you know the intent to cut right away. When one walks here, in this gallery with its long stained glass windows, it’s well known how far a word can carry. The tones and syllables blend together to form a more perfected toxin. It permeates the skin and shifts from the flush of embarrassment to the cold shame of acknowledgment.

Neutral, and non-reactive, I will be a shield as she worries her hands. I will not lift my head up high in defiance. I will not sulk or wince in defeat. I will be unaffected and immovable. I will not acknowledge the way she wrings her feelings out, trying to return to clean.

“Did you see that just now?” it barely has to be breathed from down the hallway to be heard. “An absolute waste of time and mercy from his Majesty,” the words are dragged out like her feet along the marble. I will not sigh, or change the tempo of my breath. I will keep my stride confident and too long, so she is forced not to slow down and hear anything else they may say.

I will not let the gossipers see the rage that rises within me. I will remain the barrier of indifference. I will remain unmoved.