The Land of the Broken Toys....

(The original ramble was eaten by a Gather Gremlin.....much like the prior two articles I have written....fortunately I saved the uneditted version.....siiiiigh)

I hail from the Land of Broken Toys.....where I am the Queen.

It isn't something to be advertised but instead a warning to be heeded by the unsuspecting. A special message to those dazzled by the manufactured bright lights used to distract and confuse to protect ones self and..... save the others.

It is not to say that broken toys are not capable of happiness. It does't mean that they do not know what it was once like to shine in the sun. It is the memories of those days that are held close to the heart and secreted away lest the memory, like the happiness be stolen away or dashed against the rocks. Memories like broken toys tend to get dusty....and they taste bittersweet....

Once in a while....broken toys get lucky. Despite the dust and dullness, someone sees that glint in the eyes.....the worth that is resident but well guarded. And when someone notices enough to retie the broken string and give it a pull......the whole world can maybe notice too and hear her songs.

But sometimes broken toys don't care about the whole world. Sometimes they want so badly to be able to trust that happiness is for everyone.....including them. To walk in the world of the believers and look through unjaded eyes and know what it is to fly. Because new and beloved toys have this natural ability.....and they do not have the memory of how they came to be. And surely.....and hopefully they would never know the pain of a kick, the desolation of despair, all the things that keep broken toys embedded in the bottom of the toy box as opposed to being held securely in the arms.

So the broken toy finds herself in an unfamiliar position. Maybe she is an ice dancer, learning again how to skate beautifully to please the one who found her again. But the splinters bite and remind.......

And she loses the glide and her figure 8s look like distracted 6s......

She sees the edge where the ice is thin.....and feels confused. Is it safer to remain a broken toy where disappointment lives....but is familiar....and therefore comfortable? Or does she trust that feeling that says...YES.....she too can fly?

So she flirts recklessly on the thin ice.....knowing it can give at any moment. Thinking in her disjointed logic that if she can manage the fear of falling thru the ice then all can be well. If she convinces the puller of the string that she could have pulled it on her own....all by herself.....then she cannot lose....even if she does....because then she knew it anyway......and she knows how this goes. She is more familiar with how the toys break and bend.. And it chokes her throat.....because it isn't fair.

It isn't fair to test and blind the one who found her and saw her. But she does it.....because she is broken. And scared. And terrified that she could be the reason that the string could be cut......but even more.......that she could lose the one that makes her feel real.......to the lies she tells herself.