Crow wing in Grey skies

I cry because it didn’t go as expected and I am lost. In the blizzard, in the cold. Life as a cruel metaphor. My husband passed out in the early evening and I am sick in the bathroom. Carry your secrets close to your heart, hold it in your bosom. Those you love will have that little warmth, and you’ll wonder if they can feel it more than you.

I was happy in the beating sun. Glistening. Hydrated. Un-struck by life. But maybe I thought the bleached rays could wipe away my sin.

Tougher times have made me now. As In gasped for air, all I wanted to do was collapse. Writhe in pain. But with each blow, I face it, because it is no worse. And that’s more mercy than God grants some.

Last updated November 30, 2015