I think I can remember
though it seems so long ago
like a story I once imagined
a dream that blurs the edges of you and me.
I remember when all was still waters, green pastures
when my soul sang and needed no restoration
when all before me was ready prepared.
A deluxe ready meal from heaven.
I remember you beside me
as certain of your presence
as I was certain of your goodness
your continued goodness; always.
I think I can remember
though it seems so long ago
like a story I once imagined
before the curtain closed and darkness fell,
And I came to the end of me,
to the end of the world entire,
when all the goodness was gone
and all was upside down and darkness.
And thirst.
Horrible thirst.
That held me down and used me up
when all I could whisper was one thing
just one thing.
Where are you?
And all I heard was silence.
You were gone,
and I was going too, melting and hardening
my heart turned to wax inside me
disappearing inside me,
it ran out of me
down my face
down my arms
out and down.
Pooling beneath me, empty now,
then, hardening in the wrong places
hemming me in
freezing me where I stood.
Alone.
Totally alone.
Forsaken, to use a word you’d know.
And still thirsty.
And mad.
So mad.
Unheard and paralysed, now abandoned?
Where are you? I said again
but instead of a plea, it was a challenge.
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?
I shouted, raising my voice,
A final time in angry desperation.
Then I heard four words
Just four words.
Tell me, and drink.
I was silent, my voice dried up
my eyes watching for a trick.
Tell me, and drink.
So I spoke,
and there was no filter, no pre approved language
I spoke and it poured from me
And onto him.
My toes began to twitch,
My legs moved inside their waxy prison.
It cracked and I felt a beat
It came from inside me
The beat of a heart that was not lost but found
Somehow.
Still I spoke, the words kept pouring
and with each fear, each pain, each tear
My thirst lessened, the darkness rolled away.
My soul began to bloom
Like a garden in spring that sneaks up when your back is turned.
This can’t be me, I think
The pain, not gone, but used
Instead of a dark cave
I find myself at the edge of a new world.
The cave at my back
I start out across this new landscape.
Past waterfalls, through valleys
And up, onto the ridges.
I turn and look,
The cave is not gone, but smaller
A geographical feature but only
One part of this great, big world.
Where are you? I whisper
Looking down from the mountaintop
A hand on my shoulder, scarred and worn,
I turn and see
Your feet, your face, your mouth, your eyes
Looking at me, only at me.
I drink you in, rest my head on your chest
Fall to my knees and cry and laugh and smile.
My thirst is gone.
For you are here.
Holding my soul in nail scarred hands.
Always, to the very end of the age.
Gillian Fox 2/4/2019