I was ashamed to be a part of the deafening silence…

I found myself sinking deeper into a form of depression. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way…And then I visited Anoma Wijewardena’s Quest at the National Art Gallery last Sunday and realised exactly why…

The exhibition was a painful reminder of my inadequacy, of the hope that we all hold in our hands but choose to forsake. I felt ashamed to be a part of the deafening silence that surrounded me…. The images stared starkly at me and the words screamed at me making me feel hollow and inconsequential like as if I was stranded in front of the large waves of an ocean, ship wreaked and alone. My head throbbed with guilt, for the words were known, the images familiar and yet I had chosen to ignore them; ignore others like me, those others wanting to sing with me. Some images teased my guilt with traces of what could be if the chorus was loud, if the words that accompanied were echoed by all of us. But I continued to feed the silence.

Part of the process of healing is remembering and remembering is always agonizing that’s why we choose to escape its forces, shamelessly absolve ourselves from responsibility; choose to live with the silence. The silence kills each day more of the soul and yet we trick ourselves into believing the silence is normal, that it is all we can expect, that it is us. I hear whispers of dissent, but they are not loud enough to break through the silence.

I left the exhibition feeling even more depressed because. I carried my guilt and walked away. I remembered but did not heal, for I cannot heal alone. Until we all release our clenched fists we will not see the hope, only the starkness of the images, the words will not inspire they will only continue to condescend.