the Weight of Devastation

I couldn’t believe what I was saying, to actually give voice to the awful things happening. The words drifted from my lips as if someone else was talking. They floated around me then mingled with the dry summer air. As I spoke I felt the vibrancy of life leave me –

I became heavy. My body slumped and I was unable to move. laying down on the ground I could feel the dry summer grass prickly underneath me. My body yearned to dry up and fade into the dirt – to simply disappear. The knots of anxiety – too much for my heart to hold had now dissipated into numbness – then deep heaviness.

This heaviness overtook me, as if my muscles refused to hold me upright. The ground beneath me, my only comfort. Sorrow pushing heavy down on me, no desire left in me to push back. I lay still on the flat hard surface of the Earth.

My body yearning for what it knows, the cold, dark clay of its origin.

“From Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return.”

Yet in that heaviness a small spark of something in me whispered,

“Yes, but in glory you will rise from that dust to eternal life. Get up. This is not the end. Rejoice in your sorrow, rejoice. God is near to care for you and your girl.”

The promise of love, of salvation and resurrection call me and lingered.

Powerless and empty, another strength enlivened me, and I got up.

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