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

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