Her Broken wing

A trickle of tears from the Heavens fall on the good and the bad, the spiritual and the unspiritual. There is no discrimination in the choosing of who receives this blessing of Holy Rain. The world moves on oblivious to the volley that seeps in the profound longing of their hearts. Before long, the thunder of passion fades to a distant roar.

Lives either restored or lost at sea after the storms.

Why me? I asked.

Why not me? I heard.

I tasted the vileness of this sickness that I may understand it in its fullness.

The thing I came to loathe in others is the very thing I feared the most. It was the reflection of my soul and a mirror image of who I prayed I was not. I have found that is the way we are as humans. The things that stir my essence to the edge of excitability has some great power undefined– holding me in a secret lovers embrace.

It captures and takes me into captivity and will not release me until I let go of the power sustained through my fear and trepidation. God did not force me into this place, for “He stands at the door and knocks…” (Rev 3:20)

He is a Gentleman.

He will wait as long as it takes.

I turn the knob …slowly.

My greatest fear has not been what was but what was not.

“Why me?” I cry.

”Why not me?” He cried…(Jn 3:16)  

Beautifully Awkward

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