I am so looking forward to summer but apparently, my sem ends on the 29th. What a stretch! But THIS LIFE IS A BEAUTIFUL ONE :) I'm taking this short time off to chill for a bit before getting back to work, work, work! All the downs I've experienced in the past months made me learn (in a hard way, but I learned) and appreciate the value of unwavering focus, hard work, hard criticism and GRACE (thanks to my BIG GUY up there).
I run out. This tempest is cruel and getting more spiteful by the minute. What started as ripples surround like tidal waves, engulfing everything along its way. I run out.
Suddenly, my defenses turned on me. My sails are now frayed from the howling winds. My canons are rusted and useless. The perfectly tranquil ocean, my old friend -- the traitor. Where have all my men gone? Where is the crew to bring down the anchor? Nay, they’re all gone. Waters rush in unwelcome. They flood inside as I empty my vessel with just a bucket and my own two hands. But oh heart, it’s weary. The darkness blinds me. The downpour hides the surge of tears. And the lighthouse is far from near.
My ship is plummeting down the spiral. Like in a drain I see myself submerge. And as my everything runs out, I go deaf and defenseless to the trouncing and thrashing. And as I close my eyes to accept this doom, a hand rests upon my shoulder.
Security.
Ever so gently amidst the storm, he carries my almost lifeless body.
Oh the sturdy arms that wrap around me!
I can hear his heartbeat, calm and steady with a consistent thump that does not skip a beat.
I can feel his warmth surrounding even when all is wet and cold.
I can feel his grip secure yet tender, impervious to the raging sea.
I feel far above the ground, how tall must he be?
Yet as I try to get a glimpse of his face, my eyes, they hurt in His glory
He walked and stopped before the hand wheel, there I realize my identity
I hear His voice, the placid tone, whispering ever so quietly
That I am the crewman and He, my captain
Is greater than the waves of the sea.
Though my sails are tattered and the fabric’s torn
Like the cry of mortality
I am the crewman and He, my captain
Hath not departed me.
She was 18.
And a bit of a surprise.
I was addressing them for the first time, fired up and fresh from Sunday. I can hear myself as the words flow faithfully as if from memory. But her gaze was different from the rest. I caught it flew in interim, outward towards space. She was back fast enough. But her eyes were overcast, eclipsed by a well made-up face.
So the breakthrough came. They spoke, one after another, recounting stories, unloading weight upon weight as if I was some bare container. Never mind that I had to take it all in; I treasured the moment. They did not fail to surprise.
She was the last to speak. She hesitated at first, but after minutes of prodding from the others, she acceded. Then the tears came. And that’s when I felt my heart stretch as if on reflex, with a compulsion that demanded urgency. She knew how to hide herself pretty well. Her demeanor spoke differently but her heart could not be contained.
The following week, I got to talk to her alone. Her smile was different this time, hopeful and expectant. I offered a billion times to accompany her to that place she did not yet belong to. How my heart leaped when she wanted to name him (or could it have been a her?) after me. Unbelievable, this girl. Unbelievable. Enthusiasm filled her afternoon and mine.
But it dissipated as quickly as vapor. Like life.
She couldn’t be blamed, could she? It was too late. Much as we wanted the lad to owe up to the blame, to heck with attribution – as if it mattered now. It might have been too late, but for C it was new life. They come at the most unexpected time and bring redemption if you grab them.
The young lad was as confused as she was. He had hormones that raged most haphazardly, and then the guts – and the gall – to lead innocence to slaughter. This is what the world does – make boys out of emerging men and premature mums out of missies.
What adds insult to injury is not this reality but the normalcy that keeps it company.
I look at C. There’s one too many.
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