LAST Sabbatical Reflection: Words on a Page #36 I Remember

 I Remember...  

...words taken and reworked almost directly from Ezekiel 16...

The clear image has stolen into my mind

Day and night, without bidding.

A waking dream. I remember. 

I see her...feeling so very old at 15,

But truly so, so very young.

Insecure. Lost. Sad. Scared. 

I remember the days of my youth,

I know where I came from, 

where you found me. 

I know the state I was in---

The pain, the confusion.

Where I was heading.

You found me, 

born from lines of sin and treachery.

Bloodied with misuse.

Uncared for. Unseen.

Tossed aside and neglected.

You found me naked, unaware of my shame.

Tenderly, you brought me close.

With your hesed, you bathed me.

You washed me clean. 

You clothed me with fine linen.

Adorned me with beauty and wealth.

You fed me with choice foods.

You poured abundance.

You poured blessing on my head.

You established an everlasting covenant.

You offered yourself to me, 

Covered me with your garments.

You called me your own.

I belong to you!
I am yours.

You are mine.

With joy and with peace

You fill my days.

Your love is better than life.

Written November 2020

...words taken and reworked almost directly from Ezekiel 16..

Ezekiel 16:3-14 

"...I bathed you with water and washed the blood from you and put ointments on you. I clothed you with an embroidered dress and put sandals of fine leather on you. I dressed you in fine linen and covered you with costly garments. I adorned you with jewellery: I put bracelets on your arms and a necklace around your neck..."

HESED 

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #35 Farmers Words

 The Farmer's Words

Something is always wrong with the sheep, 

the farmer says with disdainful tone.

Their feet, their bums, ever lost or caught.

Would never make it on their own.

Funny that He calls me sheep,

Rumbles of laughter fill my soul.

My body, my will, often lost or caught.

My freedom is found in His control. 

Something is always wrong with this sheep.

This truth sits like a wisdom crown.

My shepherd, my farmer, my gardener, my friend.

Watched by Him, I'm safely found.  

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #34 Painting Clouds

 Painting Clouds

I simply can't paint you. 

I try and I struggle. 

But you will not be held or captured. 

I can not pin you down.

Your splendour and majesty.

Your brilliance of colour and depth.

Your movement and grace.

Your diversity and changeability.

I cannot capture you with my brush.

An argument I will never win.

A venture that has no end.

Wrestling Leviathan or a fight with the sea.

I try.  I struggle.

I attempt new techniques. 

New colours and strokes.

I shift and shade.

My skills are lacking, to be sure.

Yet, I am convinced that even if...

If I had the skills of the masters, 

I could never paint you.

Vangough's brilliant use of colour, 

his light and shadows...

He failed to paint you.  

To paint you truly. 

You have been painted already.

Made, altered, mastered...

by the Master, Himself. 

He that pulls the great beast with a hook.

He that wrestles the waves.

He that says, thus far and no more!

He has painted you perfectly.

Displayed His magnificent skills!

November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #33 The Power of Words

 Power of Words

A simple phrase

spoken with a smile.

Said with kindness, 

words slam into my chest.

My balance is lost,

Rocked and off kilter.

Spoken shockwaves, 

I tilt and sway.

Sickness rises from the deep,

Said once, now a mantra.

Words swirl and surround,

running and racing in my mind.

Dizzy and disoriented,

I feel the shift.

I fight to keep stable.

Just stay still!

I pull at my heart,

tug it back into place.

Find my equilibrium again. 

I whisper truth to my soul.

It was just a simple phrase...

It was such a sweet smile...

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #32 Rambler

 Rambler

She called him a rambler.

Defined by his adventures, 

he rambles his way through

valley, field and mountain pass.

He walks, she explained.

He walks often... for fun, she laughed.

He rambles, she said again, 

willing me to understand.

Words bounce in my head and I wonder, 

As I walk the hills,

one muddy step after another, 

I ponder the words as they run through my head.

Am I a rambler?

It may not be Tryfan or Pen y fan, 

It certainly will never be Everest.

The Himalayas are not my cup of tea!

But, indeed, I ramble.

I ramble through this life.

I traverse and trek through peeks and passes.

Making my way through forest and fields.

I would not have chosen this life, 

this adventure and ramble 

of body, soul and mind.

But, I am grateful for the vistas.

I am deeply thankful for the sounds

I am in wonder for all I have seen.

Excited about the whispers of what is to come.

Yes, indeed!  I call me a rambler.

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #31 Tree Symphony

 Tree Symphony

Sounds like rolling laughter

The trees shout and rejoice.

They dance and sing, 

wild movements inspired

by wind and worship.

One high note rings, 

One low bass resounds.

The symphony of celebration

surrounds and engulfs.

Enchanted and uplifted,

I raise my voice.

I lift my hands.

I join the song and the dance! 

"Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;

Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy! Let all creation rejoice!"

Psalms 96:12

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page#20 Hidden

 Hidden

The tide rolls in and covers.

Boulders and stones lay beneath.

Hidden. Unseen.

Beneath movement and thick deep

Cities and stadiums of structure stand.

Hidden. Unseen.

Give it time!  The tide will shift again.

These rocks and foundations will be revealed

Opened and on display.

"For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, 

and nothing concealed that will not be known

and brought out into the open."

Luke 8:17

Hallelujah and Praise Him for His mercy and unfailing love.  

Hesed  חֶסֶד‎!  

Written October 2020

Reminds me of this post from 2009

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #29 Peace

 Peace

Coins spilling out of a purse, 

over-filled and bursting.

An inheritance is mine,

more wealth than Solomon himself.

And yet, I walk often without shoes,

without my coat that keeps me warm.

Riches beyond reason,

legacy that surpasses understanding.

I have been given peace,

As a birthright, it is mine!

Enduring endowment to fill,

Reality to guard and satisfy.

Today, I will accept the ring, 

wrap myself in the robe.

Today, I will lean in and receive,

I will rest my head and lay on that pillow.

I will walk in the given gift,

Take a long needed nap on the boat. 

Written October 2020

"Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give you..." (John 14:17)

Mark 4:38-39

Philippians 4:7

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #28 Perfect Redefined

 Perfect Redefined

Nature doesn't move in a linear fashion.

There is nothing neat and tidy

found on the forest floor.

Leaves don't fall into a pile.

Random, scattered, multi coloured

Thrown, tossed---a tumble of here and there.

Grass doesn't grow in a straight line.

Wild, untamed, high and low

The curves and the turns have no pattern.

Trees don't stretch out straight.

Jut out, jagged, jostled about

Flaws and faults the norm.  

The path ahead twists and turns.

Rocks strewn left and right

This plant, that tree, this vine or weed.

Nature let's her hair down.

Flowing freely whipped by wind.

 Dishevelment is earth's standard.

Creation is not clean, pristine, or scrubbed.

Seemingly random, wonderfully creative! 

Variety and diversity esteemed.

Beauty found in blemish.

Peace amidst mess.

Charm and comfort in chaos and colour. 

Isn't the woodland wonder just perfect?

The wild, wind blown grass just perfect?

The twisted trees draped over the path...

Absolutely perfectly perfect!

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #27 Crutch

 

Crutch and Cistern

Broken and twisted gait

Crutches needed 

For far too long

I think I am ready to let go.

Age old mechanisms

Survival needed

Modes to steady

Finally I am ready to release.

My legs are strong now.

Trusting muscles hold me.

Rock hard core

I don't need you anymore.

You crutch!  You, cisterns.

Watered and fed me.

Carried me with stale drink.

My tastes have changed. 

I know living water now

I know steady foundations

Will I release and let go?

Will I walk freely and drink fresh?

Hands off and letting go

I feel the wobble.

Worry floods... 

Can my legs hold me?

As I walk free, I feel thirst.

Stagnant pools draw

Familiar tastes tug at my mouth.

Will I walk free from these crutches?

Written October 2020

John 8:36  "If the Son sets you free, you can be free indeed!"

Jeremiah 2:13 "My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water."

Reminds me...

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #26 TV-The Sad, Sad Truth

 

TV- The Sad, Sad Truth

They feel like family, these pretend friends. 

Lights, sounds and transmissions flicker on the screen. 

I come home from school and I can't wait!  

Backpack dropped.  Coat and shoes chucked off.  

Quick!  Grab a snack... 

Drop down into the well-worn couch. 

We eat together, and I tell you about my day.

I watch you laugh and it brings me comfort.

Each day, I visit my mother and my father living in a box.

After school cookies and milk with Julie, our cruise director.

Ice cream with a Silver Spoon and Benson. 

Learning the Facts of Life with Jack, Janet and Chrissy.  

Alone in this world, I watch you cry and fight.

I cringe while you escape fire and disease and I am with you.

I join you to laugh.  I join you and I cry.

Your safety is my joy.  Your victory my win.

My young heart feels connection.  

Someone else had a hard day!

We commiserate together over chips and soda. 

You say the words of love I long to hear. 

Signals traverse through the air, they warm.

Like a much needed hug, the wrap around me.

Transmissions touch the gaping hole of loneliness.

You are there every day, my friends!  

Your presence just a click away.

Hours and hours and hours together.  

Your fun and antics tell me I am not alone.

These are the 80s realities.

Raise your glass... Cheers! 

Let's drink to television!

What in the world have we done!?

So, are the Days of Our Lives.  

Written September 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #25 Unseen

 Unseen

Two people

inhabit the same space.

Disconnected.

Coordinates identical.

Yet so very distant.

Untouched.

How can you sit there?

Across a table.  

Arms length and acres apart. 

Am I an apparition?

Sitting here, facing you.

You look but do not see.

Even as my sound enters your ears.

Vocalization unheard.  Unnoted.

You hear but do not listen. 

Please just respond.  Please remark.

Please look at me.

See and try to understand.

Why won't you ask?

Where is your curiosity?

Will you refuse to know me?

If I am here, or not,

A cut-out.

Or, a picture would suffice.  

Written September 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #24 The Best Medicine

The Best Medicine

Laughter wells up and spills over.

Like a singing stream, 

a song of joy bubbles and gurgles.

Laughter rises and bounces up.

Like a dancing dolphin, 

riding the wake with a jump and frolic.

Days of sadness have gone before.

Songs of mourning filling my week.

Waves of grief have racked and crashed. 

But today, I chuckle and chortle.

His essence fills my aching soul with good medicine.

Laughter wins today! 

Written September 2020

Proverbs 17:22 "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones."

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #23 Your Face

 Your Face

Your face

Attuned

Eyes smiling

Aware

Your face 

Seeing

Eyes knowing

Soft

Your face

Watching

Eyes delighted

Waiting

Your face

Always?

Yes, always...

Attached

My heart

Seen

Ever known

Secure

Written September 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #22 Depth of Sadness

Depth of Sadness

Down in the bedrock, 

far below the surface.

Streams of groundwater run and churn.

Filling the pores,

seeps into the cracks of my soul, 

The sadness flows deep and wide.  

Creeping and edging through.

Pressure pushes and pulls, 

This grief.  This pain.

Mostly quiet, even unknown.

Almost always unnoticed and unseen,

Rarely will it rise.

Today it threatens a flood.

Noah's springs of the deep roar and rumble.

The agony has reached it's tipping point.

Will it finally be heard?

Spill up and over.

Pour out and destroy.

Will the aquifer reach it's limit?

Will the confined boundaries be overcome?

Eruption of furry and flood.

Will the sadness win and have it's say?

Destroying all that is wicked on the surface.

Washing, finally.  Bringing justice!

Will the façade be toppled?

The earth be cleansed.

The floodgates finally opened wide.

O! These underground streams!  

The sorrow coursing through the foundations.

Living, growing and building all these years.

I hear you.  I see you.  I honour and listen. 

I welcome your voice.  

Pour forth, rise up, and make me whole.

Written September 2020

"Let your tears flow like a river...Pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord"

 (Lamentations 2:18,19)

"It is better to enter a house of mourning than a house of feasting, since death is the end of every man, and the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for a sad countenance is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure."  

(Ecclesiastes 7:3)

Aquifer 

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #21 Freedom's Call

 Freedom's Call

Like a gentle breeze on my face, 

the expanse beckons me.

I am called to run.

Invited to venture forth.

In a brief moment of time, 

With just a breath and a whisper.

I can feel the offer to rest.

The binding weight being lifted.

Shackles loosen.

Arms free... movement offered.

Open space before me,

I am called to run.

Inspired to walk without weight,

Chains left and scattered to the wind.

Energy lifts, excitement fills

I am poised... ready to bolt!

Crouched down, I begin to push off

Feel the exhilaration from the momentum.

A small beautiful moment of time.

For just a breath and a second, I run!

Jolted to an abrupt stop.

I smack into myself again.

Just around the corner, there I am.

I run into me.

Instantly, in that moment,

I am locked again. 

Stuck and held.

Heavy and subdued.

"Who shall rescue me from this body of death?!"  

Romans 7:24

Written August 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #20 Midnight Call

 Middle of the Night Call

 A nudge.

A gentle tap.

3 am invitation comes again.

I roll over.

Pull covers up tight.

Certainly the clouds are too thick tonight, Lord.

A whisper.

A small thought.

'I want to show you, again!'

Another gentle nudge.

A push and a tap in my mind.

Barely conscious I am waking.

Doubt-filled thoughts.  

Questions rise.

This second-guess girl wonders at crazy midnight ideas.

Oh!  But, the tug.  

Now, the pull. 

With little expectation, I yank myself out of bed. 

Grab the coat

But, oh!, it's so very cold, Lord!

I slowly wander outside. 

Startled. 

Instant awe.  

I am shocked to my very core.

Dark clouds drawn back.

Opened like heavy curtains.

Pushed right to the edge of the earth.

Stars on display.

His masterpiece.

Singing His glory again!

Arrayed in majesty.

A picture of love.

Arranged by the greatest artist of all time.

To think! He invited me!

His hands pushed the clouds back.

Did He smile big that night?

When next will He call? 

Will I respond?

Will you listen?

"By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of His mouth" Psalm 33:6

Written August 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #19 They Come to My Window

 They Come to My Window

My heart is only so big.

My mind even less in size.

But still, they come.

They come to my window,

Sharing places and pain.

Stories and stupidity.

Hearts poured out like a waterfall,

Into my waiting pool. 

Their lives bring movement and stirring.  

Turmoil to any stillness that might be found.

I am never untouched.

Pain reverberates. My pond is disturbed.

They speak and cry.

And, sometimes they use words.

Bravely revealing vulnerability.

Tender and precious each one.

They come to my window.

Sometimes their hearts are beyond my understanding.

'Pray for them with all sincerity',

the Abbess advises, and I listen.

'Then, give them over to God'

So, I must let go.  

My heart is only so big.

My arms even less so.

I set them down

Leave them at His feet.

His grand heart, His kind mind, His strong arms

I leave them and close the window.

I pour them back into His hands.

But, still they come.  

Written July 2020

"...you can't hold in your heart all the pain that comes to your window.  Pray once and let them go" 

~The Abbess told Julian of Norwich (1343-1416)

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #18 Stargazing

Stargazing

Middle of the night rendezvous

I wait for Your call.

Step through the dark

Into the glory of light.

Tiptoe out. 

Don't wake the neighbours!

Wait.  Watch.

Tears fill my eyes.

Tiny. Bright. Distant dance.

Beauty and majesty touch my soul.

Spread out like a tapestry

You made these with Your word.

A still, yet moving, work of art.

Your heart shouts with a thousand lights.

Written July 2020

Jeremiah 31:35  This is what the LORD says, he who appoints the sun to shine by day, who decrees the moon and stars to shine by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar-- the LORD Almighty is his name!

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #17 My Man

 My Man

My man

When you walk--- knee deep---

in the River, 

you are stunning.  

You leave a wake of strength and kindness.

As you journey along--- knee deep---

splashed with grace, 

I see you filled up and confident.

More than you. Radiant and passionate.

You get bigger in the water--- knee deep---

Compassionate and gentle, 

Unnerving, comforting, protecting.

Heavenly fire fills your very being.

When you walk---knee deep---

in His Presence, 

You expand. Larger and fuller. 

  Beautiful vigour. A gentle giant.

My man.  

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #16 Pain

Pain

Pain that shifts and rambles.

One day it is here. 

Tomorrow it is there.

Last week it was here and there.

Always present. 

Often niggles. 

Occasionally scary.

Mostly annoying.  

Sometimes sharp.

Definitely cumbersome.

Usually dull.

Never welcome.  

It seems to take a walk around me. 

A long wandering journey.

Certainly, it has it's favourite spots to 

sit a spell.  Stretch out!  Hunker down. 

Without announcement or fanfare

It begins to stroll again. 

Pain making its ways to new vistas, 

new horizons.

Meandering, searching, looking, 

I wonder, 

for new favourite spots.

To rest and sit for a while.  

Written July 2020

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #15 The Climb

 

The Climb

One step at a time

One foot in front

What seems impossible

and beyond, 

can become reality

With one step

One foot following the other

Sit for a while.  It's okay.

Don't look too hard for the end.

Steady your gaze. 

Glance back!  

See how far you have come. 

The destination feels distant. 

Even arduous.

Sit for a bit.  

Then, begin again. 

Keep your eyes right in front of you.

Just one single. 

                        step. 

                               at. 

                                      a. 

                                                   time.

The climb.  

Written July 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #14 The Word

 

The Word

A firm rock

A solid stepping stone.

It lifts me, to see more. 

I peek just over the wall. 

A place to settle.

To sit and rest from the noise

My home.

I take warmth in refuge.

My doorway to beyond... 

More of You, more of me.  

My gateway to light and truth.

I walk through and see.

My river to life, 

To drink from, to wade in, to swim!

My raft. 

The vessel that carries me. 

My rock.  

To hold me and lift me up

The place I find rest, light, and life!

The place I find You.

Written July 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #13 The Sky

The Sky

It reaches.

It covers beyond what I can see.

Beyond what I can even imagine

'Stretched out like a canopy'  

Dark, deep, high, vast

A space of stillness---

a moon, set in place

stars in their home.

Reality of movement, phases

Lifting and lowering.  

And dancing 

...so much dancing!

Stillness, yet so much motion. 

Clouds that shift and sway. 

Layers of profound stillness.  Layers of movement. 

Still one moment, swift the next. 

Colours and shadows

Depth and variety

A different portrait each day.

Moment after moment

It holds a welcome for all.

Welcome to gaze and behold!

Always the same and ever changing.

Simple; yet with complexities I can not comprehend.

Beyond what I can even imagine. 

It reaches.  It covers.

He 'spread it out like a tent'. 

It wraps us, a shelter and a wonder. 

"Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: who created all these?" Isaiah 40

Written July 2020

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #12 Mrs. Tree

 

Mrs. Tree

Old, rugged, worn. 

How long have you been there, Mrs. Tree?

You stand so tall, so very stable. 

As new growth climbs and entwines, 

encircling itself in and around you.

You seem untouched.  Firmly fixed.

What have you heard, Mrs. Tree? 

The comings and the goings of life.

The laughter, tears, cries and triumphs.

Building up all around you.

Breaking down, falls and rubble.

Days and years passing.

Have you felt the sadness? 

Or, rejoiced in the triumph?

Have you felt the frustrations?

Have you pondered or considered why?

How long have you watched as your friends, 

your neighbours are destroyed? 

What have you seen?

Generations come and go.

Littles run around your feet,

Aged rest in your shadow.

The young carve their hearts' intentions.

Who has noticed you?

Old and new.

Ancient and aged being replaced.

Yet, you remain still.

Years after years. 

What was, is no more. 

What is, will always be.

How many winds have run through your branches, 

How many rains have rustled your leaves, 

torn and tugged at you... made you dance?  

Do you worship while you sway?

Do you know the hands and mind that made you?

Do you 'laugh at the days to come'?

How long will you be there, Mrs. Tree?

My time will have come and long gone by, I am certain. 

Yet, there you are.  Old, worn and rough.

Steadfast and sturdy.

With 'strength and dignity'.

There you will be.  

Written July 2020

Proverbs 31

"For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people" Isaiah 65:22

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #11 Rubrics

 

Rubrics

Colour on a page

Do you know what it is? 

These easy going, even fun...  

Grace-filled criteria.

Rubrics in place.  

to judge

to know.

And, yet, 

Yet, even the colour is not bright

...enough.

Not muted enough. 

Not smooth

...enough.

Not well textured or blended...

...

My very existence

My every. moment. of. every. day

Not enough.

Falls short.

Do I know what it is?

A splash of colour on the page.

This day.

   This being.  

Me.

Written June 2020

Reminds me of this post I wrote in 2019

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #10 This Old House

 

This Old House

This old house---

Same old house

Same smells and sights.

Corners and walls

So familiar.

The wallpaper needs changing---updating.

No, actually, the foundation.

Pull up the floor boards!

Rot underneath. Rip them out!

Rebuild with lapis and turquoise.

A foundation laid and layered with faults and cracks

Burn it down!  

Start again!

Sounds of shifting sand echo and warn. 

This house will fall!

But, alas! the land is secure.

This rickety structure was built on a rock which is firm.

Faithful. Steadfast.  

Before the foundations of the earth, 

hesed was.  Hesed always is.

Yes! Mold and mildew may lurk deep within these old walls.

Disease lingers.  

Pour over with the cleansing water and ash.  

With hyssop, scarlet and cedarwood, 

Clean this old house!   

Written June 2020

Leviticus 14

Isaiah 54:11,12

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #9 How I See

 How I See

When did it begin?

This way of thinking

This way of seeing myself.

Like Lewis' green lady, I step

outside myself 

and I look. 

Rather than simple 'being', 

I become observer

I watch. I evaluate and I judge.

Unlike his lady, I don't like what I see

My gaze doesn't lift.

My mouth doesn't form in satisfaction.

Written June 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #8 The Moon Again

 

The Moon Again

I watch for you each evening. 

Waiting and wondering.

Like a child longing for dessert,

When is dinner time over?  

How many peas must I eat first?

I anticipate. 

I wonder and wait...

when will the dark become 

dark enough!

Enough to reveal your glory.

Each night I see a different sight

A new shade and perspective. 

Light reflected, revealed, radiating. 

Or tonight... covered, shroud, hidden. 

Yesterday's dusk brought deep, dark clouds 

Across my vista, shadows swept thick with movement

Dense with a heaviness that slowed their race overhead.

Each step they took across the sky laboured.

I waited.  I watched. 

Wondering if I would see you when these dark ones parted.

As the clouds trudged through the murk of the evening sky

I wanted...

Willing just one glimpse... 

One quick view of your face. 

For I knew you were there.  

Even if hidden.

You are always there.

Positioned there long ago, 

you remain.  

Not yet shaken, always firm in place.  

I know you are there.

Now, I watch for you every evening.   

Written June 2020

...reminds me of this post from March 2012

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #7 "Sin"

Sin

There is a place I go 

to which looks so

 ..so different at night.

In the daylight it calls me. 

Sweetness on my tongue.

Cool and quiet. 

A place of rest. 

In my mind, on my way there, 

I feel the pull.  

The draw.

It always appears delight 

in my mind's eye---

As if by night, I have never visited. 

Each moment

Each venture seems the same

The draw

The journey

The rationale

The place. The taste.

And then...  the memory

Within memory is where the night time terror lives.

Dark and dank.

Rank and rotten.

Screaming shame.

'Even at night my heart instructs me'

This memory lane reveals the true nature of this place. 

Every. Single. Time.

An emptiness

which always leaves me wanting. 

Angry. Hurting.

Bitter and sour. 

Cold and alone.

No rest.

Indeed there is no rest for the 

wicked.  

Written May 2020