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Sunday, February 28, 2010

#24 I See the LIght


I see the light now, and even through the prism of my tears, it is brighter.  I long to sit by the sea, gazing at it dancing off the water, dazzling me with diamonds and silver.  Hypnotized by its brilliance, I come to see that it is within my grasp.  

But I must pose on the tips of my toes and reach and stretch.  There are footholds, slippery and treacherous in their ability to hurl me back down, but they are there nonetheless.  I must dig my toes into them and reach upward, cast about for hand holes, dig into them with my fingers, sweat and bleed and carefully climb.

Do I have the courage?  I am terrified, almost paralyzed with fear of being thrown back into the black place, but I need the light, lust for it in a way that is almost sexual.  I need it to live completely.  I need it to dry my wounds, my tears, illuminate my way down this sorrowful path.

I struggle, wrestle with the darkness, and it slowly falls away.   I dare not turn to see it fade.  My eyes on the light, I edge my way upward one tentative inch at a time.  Feeling the warmth as I pull myself over the rim of the hole, I lie panting and triumphant, weeping for joy, wishing I were naked to let the light pour completely over me, heating my very core, warming the icy place in my soul where my anguish lives on.

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