Refuge

     One summer evening, not so long ago, as I moved among the vendors that lined the crooked little street, it started to rain.  The rain began to pour from the sky so suddenly, and with no umbrella, I quickly sought shelter in a small trinket shop near by.  I knew my mother would be unhappy with my delay—I was supposed to be buying ingredients for dinner, but I didn’t want to get soaked.  I dutifully examined the colorful little baubles as I entered, but my attention was soon drawn to a back corner.  In the shadows, a young man sat with a beautifully carved instrument lying in his lap.  I had not seen anything like it since I was a child, in a place far away.  As I stood staring, his fingers began to strum the long strings.  Soft, golden notes hung upon the air.  Then, he began to sing.  The song was as familiar as the face of an old friend.  It spoke of the motherland, and brought the old country to life right there in that dark little shop.  His voice filled me with comfort in memories of happy times.  Yet, at the same time, it awakened an almost forgotten pain and yearning for home.  He sang in the language of family and friends, far away and many long gone.  For a few moments in his song, I was home again.

          I listened for a moment, and then joined in his song.  The rain had stopped, but finding a cabbage for my mother’s soup no longer seemed to be urgent. When he finished we embraced.  He came home with me that day and became a part of my family before he could even set foot through the door.

          There is a bond that is shared between those who are far from home.  We were both wanderers, children far from all that was familiar to us, lost in a sea of strangers.  We understood each other in a way that only fellow exiles could.

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His voice speaks of the Old Country,

And brings the motherland to life

It fills me with comfort in remembrance,

Yet awakens that old yearning for home

He sings with the language of family and friends,

And in his song, I am home again.

Moon Cry

Has the Man in the Moon always looked so troubled? Has his brow always been creased and his mouth pursed with concern? Or is it worry or disappointment that makes him look so disturbed? He sees the things we do in secret, the things we do in the dark when we think no one can see us. When God first gave him light and placed him high above the world, did he look so unhappy? Perhaps his eyes were expectant and bright with hope and even pride in the Father’s new creation he was given to watch over. Did he know then he’d been set to be a witness to our crimes? I look up at the night sky, knowing I should be asleep, and I see such earnest and silent pleading in his face. He pleads for humanity. 

What have we become?

Twilight

There was a time, long ago, when Darkness was my friend.

Night was once my sanctuary,

The setting sun once promised me rest.

However, my dearest friend has since betrayed me.

Now Darkness is the beast that snaps at my heels as I run to the light.

It follows me, playfully stalking, threatening to consume me.

I cling to the daylight hours like a shipwrecked sailor to the floating debris.

I struggle against the suffocating emptiness, trying desperately not to drown.

I run, but it runs faster.

I hide, but it finds me.

I am restricted by my mortal flesh,

But Darkness knows no such limitation.

Oh how I long for sleep with out nightmares!

Oh how I long for the comforting embrace of my old friend Twilight!

I have conquered the heights!

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep going, Whit? You’re halfway up the tree already.”

“No, I think this is enough climbing for me, thank you very much.”

Whitney isn’t going to finish the course. Dang it, I have to go now! I should probably stop being such a baby; no one is forcing me to do this.

“Is your harness tight enough?”

I nod. I don’t think I could speak if I wanted to.

“Okay, hook yourself onto here, and up you go!”

I just have to climb twenty-five feet up a pine tree. Easy enough. If only these footholds were a little bigger! I grab hold and take my first steps. This isn’t too bad, though the smell of pine is giving me a headache. I push off with my legs, higher and higher… and higher. I take it back; this is way too high up! My hands are sweating and I can’t seem to get a good grip with my feet, but I can’t stop now. I’m almost to the top… My heart is going to beat straight through my chest if it doesn’t cut it out!

“You’re at the top. Now, swing your left leg to the right side of the tree and onto that foothold, put your right foot onto the wire.”

I am going to fall. My harness is going to break and I am going to die here at girls’ camp! Looking down, I can almost see my poor, crushed, oddly contorted body lying amongst the fallen pine needles at the base of this dreadful tree...

“Good. Now one at a time, unhook those rabbitears and re-hook them to the top wire you’re holding onto with your hands.”

My hands are trembling. I can’t get the hooks to the hook onto the wire because they’re twisted! The wire is so smooth; my sweaty palms slip on it a bit.

“Just pull them closer if you have to. You can get them undone.”

I can do this; I just can’t seem to figure out how to breathe properly. Both hooks are on the wire, that oh-so-thin wire I now have to walk across. These trees didn’t seem half this far apart… from the ground! One step at a time. I can do that—just one step at a time. I’ll keep looking out at the sky, that way I won’t see how far up I am as my feet slide across the wire. It really is a very nice sky, quite blue, with big puffy clouds floating past. Stop wobbling, you stupid wire! How long has it been since I’ve felt solid ground beneath my feet? An hour? Three or four perhaps? I’m never going to get down from here! Wait, there’s the platform on the other tree, just one more step and I’m there! Goodness gracious this platform is small! It’s barely big enough for the ropes course assistant and me!

“Have you ever been repelling before?”

Me? Repel? Ha! I shake my head.

“Okay, hold onto this rope, and you’re going to put your feet against the tree and sit down into your harness.”

Sure… If I’ve come this far I can do anything.

“Now, just walk yourself down slowly, and DO NOT let go of that rope, okay?”

Okay, at least when I’m facing this way I can’t see how far up I am. Oh! I’m twisting to the side! I can’t seem to go straight down! I can feel the rough bark scraping against the bottom of my shoe as I drag one of my feet. I’m so close to the ground! Hurry up! Just a little farther and… I’m back on the ground! Oh, my precious ground! My solid, firm, sound, beautiful earth!

I have conquered the heights!

Unspeakable Words

Unspeakable words,

Words I am afraid to write down.

Stuck in my head,

They eat away at my heart.

Unable to express darkness,

I paint pretty pictures instead.

A delicate rose,

The warmth of sunshine,

All the while the shadows are closing in.

Danny Boy

Danny sat at the table, his elbows resting on the grainy mahogany surface and his fists clenched in his dark hair.

“She’s married”

He heard the phrase whispered in his ear over and over again as if some tormenting demon stood at his side. Again and again he muttered the phrase to himself, his tone of disbelief slowly morphing into one of despair. Yet, no matter how many times he heard it or spoke it, he still couldn’t make any more sense of it. She was his! He knew she was his! He had known since he had first met her that she was meant for him!

Madeline, with her big, almond shaped eyes and laughing smile, had been the only girl to agree to go to a dance with him his awkward freshman year of high school. They had been best friends since before he could remember; he couldn’t remember life with out her! He could tell her anything; even his deepest, darkest secret he had readily given to her when it became too much for him to bear alone. She always took him seriously when he needed it, and told him how stupid he was acting when the occasion called for it. She knew him inside and out and he loved her for it. He would have done anything for her—travelled to the moon, fought off an entire army singlehandedly—he would even have died for her! And yet, she asked the impossible of him; she asked that he give her up. She had supported him when he decided a year’s internship in London would make all his financial dreams come true, but she hadn’t promised anything. Of course, he hadn’t asked anything of her either, but he thought it would be understood! Now his job was secure, he would be a very rich man after just a few years of work, but he was not satisfied. He came home expecting her to be there, her soft brown curls and bright hazel eyes waiting for him, instead he arrived home to that torturous phrase,

“She’s married.”