This morning I cherish the fog. I tuck into that moment of quarter wakefulness, when the world is a blur of covers and warmth and two slumbering breaths of peace.
Dawn's beauty yawns but once before my pillow morphs into an angry dragon.
He's gone. Like treasures stolen from the shelf, someone I love is missing. The earth spins wobbly in this preconscious sticky breath. A lingering nightmare slips into my bed, clawing at me with its pinions.
Rouse me to wakefulness! I turn, pulling the covers with me, but I can't shake off the dust of these unwelcome dreams.
He IS gone. Reality invades my sleep, not the other way round. My heart resumes it's aching. Someone I love is missing.
A violent invasion, questions without answers. Sleep was God's mercy. But we are bleeding still today.
The rising sun races me to my open field. From here I watch for him. Day after day after day, I wait for him. My bosom is his cradle. My heart belongs to him.
Wherever you are. Whatever you've done. You're obviously hurting, and void of believing that you are loved. Come home. Come home. These imperfect arms are open wide. Please just come home.
2 comments:
oh how i love the story and the love of the father. thank you
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