Zuka was like an ocean, his mood swings currents, waves back and forth. There were storms, of course, and some days it felt like the waves might engulf me and drag me out with them. Still, it was beautiful living by the ocean. He was sunlight beaming down onto my face. I sat on the shore and watched his magnificence. We had fun frolicking in the sand, building castles with the family and dreaming of future homes, future places. How do you move an ocean? How do you take all that power and that turbulence and fit it into anywhere but the sea? So we stayed there with him. We weathered the storms with him.
His death. Instantly, every drop of water dried dissipated, evaporated into the heavens. I found myself standing in what was now a desert. A deserted place, lonely, dry, thirsting for water. The sun didn't shine the same. Instead of lighting my face with a warm glow, it was now harsh and scorching. The desert feels endless and meaningless. I keep walking, I find nothingness. I search for beads of water, pieces of him but there isn't one drop to be found. How does anything grow in one of the earth's least hospitable environments?
How do I start a new life here? How does one adapt to a climate so harsh? Nothing here is alive except me. I am all I have left now everything has been stripped away.
I am free here, freer than I ever wanted to be. Freedom can be daunting when you don't know what to do with it. I have no map to lead me out of this wasteland. I turn inwards and let what is inside my guide me slowly this rugged terrain. At some point I can't walk anymore, I am thirsty, I am weak, burned, exhausted and I decide it's time to put the anger aside and I begin calling out to God for direction. Step by treacherous step, I slowly walk, praying one day I will no longer be lost in this wilderness, that I will find life again.
No comments:
Post a Comment