Thursday, August 3, 2017

trees can clap their hands

I’m sitting in the swing chair on the porch, hands gripping, white knuckle like my life depends on it – and it does – a major melt down earlier – recognizing that there is  no offspring of my own to take care of me when I’m old and incapable and incontinent and blubbering and babbling…and so I have to find someone who will...

But of course, I’m thinking, as usual my mind is in 7th gear,  I see the wind moving through – a storm has passed unobtrusively with just a sprinkling of rain and not much else –  I see the trees moving with the wind - leaves fluttering like a heartbeat – twilight is descending, slowly … ( ok – so why does dawn break and twilight descend?)

My heart hurts so much I almost can’t bear it - beating against my chest like a drum -  deep  -  fast – incessant – way too many beats per minute – and yet not nearly enough to sustain me…it hurts…
I can remember only 2 other times I my life where I have been so afraid – an ex-husband with a gun – and the pole at the high ropes course in seminary.  Even when Glenn had pneumonia, I was worried, but I was in over drive and so scared was not on the radar… I just knew he would be ok……and he was.

The trees are dancing – a liturgical dance? Limbs moving to and fro – the air clean and cool, crisp even, a far cry from the wet of days previous… but I still have a death grip on the swing…

Nothing is helping tonight – not the wine – not the music - not the memories – that actually makes it worse.

And yet these trees seem to be clapping their hands – (thanks Isaiah) the storm is past – joyful trees? Maybe – but I am not – joyful that is, at least not now. But maybe, just maybe, they are trying to tell me something if only I could hear …

Leaves are falling softly to the ground as the wind wonders through the night  - I see butterflies trying their best to maintain altitude -birds are disappearing into their respective nests – it is almost night after all – and there was evening and there was day – and it was good – except that I am not – good that is – not in a good place – but maybe this is where I need to be – except that I don’t want to be here - no one ever does… and so now what?

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