Time. So many clichés could be inserted here, but exhaustion is settling in deep within my wrinkles & veins intermingling with the oxygen that becomes so thin as I exhale & write.
It’s been my worst enemy & best friend since the beginning. At least since adulthood. For a decade I’ve lived strictly by an alarm’s dictating eruption, blaring anywhere from an hour to six apart, no less than 5 times a day. Depending upon how alert I am, will determine how many I need set that day but either internal or tangible they’re ringing with their incessant reminders that time is not my friend in this regard.
It’s not a stroll in the park, the ocean breeze wafting through the air on a crisp summer Saturday, an understated pan of double chocolate chip brownies baking for their last minute.
It’s more like rain when it’s not receded from yesterday’s flood, a scalding blisteringly sunshine filled day when crops are burnt, waiting tearfully in a sterile waiting room for an emotionless stranger in a long blank coat in spring time to break the silence that the company related couldn’t.
I wait longingly for joy. As it grows and fills my being stretching & reaching toward to manifest in the light of this world… with every twist and turn it’s becoming more clear that the joy cannot contain itself much longer. Wanting to know what’s on the outside…the sounds of life audible most hours of the day.
Who will be here to meet joy? Peace, hope, long-suffering? I cannot answer that yet as time continues to mask itself as a fruit. I mask myself. With the only One Who understands. He continually says wait. I ask when. He hears but refuses reprieve. I cry, I beg, I plead. He guides silently to Words. Comforting Comforter, but wanting more. Time.
The kind you play in & dress up with…with frilly frocks & mismatched socks, dolls & gloss, & perfectly poured tea in cups of porcelain; the kind she buys too many of with most having the same (to me) patterns & florals but to her they’re like fingerprints each distinct & telling of their story.
Oh March in and balm my soul. Drench me in minutes that flood like spring showers cascading downward renewing, reviving. Be kind & gentle like the lamb. Soft & white & fresh & new.