Poetry

The Time Desert

This writing was a favorite, when I lived alone and felt lonely – yet I knew deep down God was preparing someone for me. I still allowed myself to feel the pain. This prose symbolized the years of struggle as I kept hoping and praying for God to send someone to love me.  I was tired, I was drained and I needed to express that.

The Time Desert

 

Wandering the dusty, dry desert for miles upon miles; hoping to come upon a clear oasis to take comfort and rest. Alas, there is no oasis, only a constant mirage appearing in cunning ways that I talk myself into believing.

The sweltering sun beating on my back is overwhelming and there is no relief. I keep hoping as my eyes grow weary, straining to see far ahead of me – that I will find something different than the endless existence of my journey. Ever hopeful, of each day bringing promise – though each day remains the same.

The heated wind whips around the sand gathering up scatterings of dust that sting my eyes. My eyes are heavy and tired but I must muster up the energy to squint and protect them from what is challenging me. The sun is so blistering; I want to tear at my clothes just to make a difference in the constant temperature of my body, yet – I need more clothing just to shield my skin.

My throat is beyond dry, I feel it drawing a formidable tightness; my tongue swells blocking my airway. I cannot cry out. I cannot even whisper.

As I hope for a change in the wind, a change of scenery and another sunset to break up the mundane roaming; time is forever. Time is the only thing in front of me as I grasp for something tangible. Time becomes my enemy as it continues to mock me.

My body swells, becoming heavy and I don’t even recognize me. Darkness falls once again bringing an insignificant change to the journey. I don’t dare give in to the howling calls beckoning me to give up.

I close the heavy lids of my weeping eyes. It burns yet soothes at the same time. My rest is not comforting as I fight against it, struggling.

When I call out extracting empty gasp from the well of my soul knowing God is the only one who will hear, who will understand and who will answer – I know that time is still bearing its weight down on me.

Each day becomes hollow promises as I encourage myself to hope. Knowing, as the new dawn lights up the heavens, how very far it will be to reach the end of the horizon. When I look back at how far I have traveled, I cannot even see where I have been. It is such a vast distance.

When I look ahead I can only see what is right in front of me and it goes on endlessly. I manage to look up and the sky is just as infinite as the path I must follow. The past, the present and the future is bigger than I am. It overwhelms me even though I know I will one day reach the end of this desert.

As I pick up my weary feet taking repetitive steps, I grimace at the comfort of the familiarity.

How many more night falls? How many more sunsets before I find a new path to take? Before someone will take my hand and lead me out?

With the changes in my body, my weakness, the swelling, the redness of my eyes, the crackling of my throat, my torn clothes – I want to hide until I can bring myself out of exile. No one will look upon my parched, bleeding lips, my swollen, aching eyes.

I don’t dare give up. I will lead myself out; I must wait out this enemy who ironically is my salvation – time.

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