RECOVERY
Adversity
struck.
The flat
barren desert of my life appeared
A flat
wasteland pitted with deep craters
Like Hiroshima after the bomb.
The
craters cried out to be filled but I did not hear them.
No one
heard them
There
was no one there, no life in that place of adversity.
Not even
God.
The wind
of adversity blew its icy blast through a large hole
where my chest should have been.
I
crossed my arms and hugged myself tighter to my prison.
There
was no love there - no fertile soil for love to grow.
Only the
weed of manipulation flourished.
Affirming
comments disappeared into the craters
like shovels of earth.
The
holes remained, crying even louder to be filled.
I prayed
to love like Love
Love's
light lit my subconscious and my understanding grew.
At times
Love’s light was a piercing search light
sending repulsive night creatures scuttling in vain for cover.
At times
Love's light was the Surgeon's laser.
It hurt
like death but promised Life
making endurance possible,
desirable,
even if death should result
The
result was life.
I
watched Love take painful pails of emptiness from the crater
and fill it gently with the fertile soil of His love.
Adversity
struck.
I waited
hugging my chest.
The wind
blew and the trees shivered.
Trees?
Yes,
lots of them, and grass too.
Where
are the craters?
They are
mounds of earth growing into monuments,
Monuments of honour to him who alone is able to fill the craters.
Carolyn
Gird
Many to Many Issue 3 February 1993