Why did it have to happen like this? I dramatic exit stage left. Jimi Hendrix departure. Dramatic, astounding. But now, the drama has passed and she is alone.
There is so much to mourn the woman feels dwarfed by it. The self-destruct button backfired and here she sits, alone. Her silent weeping it's like the silent condensation on a coffee cup – one full of hot black liquid, the steam appearing and vanishing in an instant. We are like grass, like steam – here one second and gone the next, taken away by the softest breeze. She thinks, her brow furrowed and quizzical.
How did I get here? What cost what? She thinks. A domino effect – black and white ivory temperate tumbling down, but with no sign of the original offender, the original cause. Only sadness, morning, loss. It goes against all she's tried to build her entire life forced to grow up too soon, before the necessary maturity was ready. Handling adulthood while having not finished her childhood.
It wasn't her fault, she knows, but at some point it has to be her responsibility. Mourning must be the first step. Acknowledging that something was lost. She knew it briefly years ago but stuffed it down into a deep place – get it like a squirrel hides food for the winter. "Oh maybe need this someday "a place to put her soul whispers. Today is the day. Alone. Quiet. Peace on the surface, but sadness that must be felt. The only thing at her side is a breeze. Something one can see only the affects of and feel. Her mind wanders and she hears at whisper, "Come to me, ye lonely and weak hearted, and I will give you rest." The voice is audible and comforting, like a memory of her mother long ago. Yet it isn't her mother. It is a new voice. It is a man's voice, one with authority and strength, a comforting straight. She closes her eyes in the voice comes again"Come to me daughter and place your burden upon my shoulders. "She has heard this voice before it is the voice of her father, not her earthly father – he has never spoken this kind me to her house this voice. It is her heavenly father, her true and forever father.
And yet the loneliness presses in on her and she fights for centerstage. She embraces the aloneness her heavenly father by her side. The comforting preschools her from the possibility of overheating.
And she is free. Free from the pain, the shame. The breeze brushes away the hair covering her face and dried her tears. The breeze pushes her toward something she has only seen from a distance - she is surrounded. Alone but not lonely. There's no shame in the solitary existence as there was before.
The breeze
The peace
The fresh breath encompasses her like a blanket swaddling an infant.
Wrapped and protected from whatever may come. Even if it is herself.
