The Brook

there used to be so much vibrancy - vibrance in the colors that surrounded my every being

The glass glistened for me: my hope, my bright joy. 

There was warmth and youth. 

Then I was crouched in the middle of a darkened room. Kneeling before a glimmering pile. 

Alone

Someone had shattered my glass, and the colors all of a sudden, vanished. 

Alone. 

Crouched in this darkened room and shivering. 

And the broken glass?

The jagged edges could only cut my hands over and over again as I tried to glue the pieces together

But to no avail!!

They crumbled endlessly at my attempts. 

And then, a voice and a presence of one -Someone who loved me endlessly,

Come, let us stand together. Let me help you stand

And we slowly stand, hand in hand

Fumbling to find a light switch in the dark, not frantically, just hopefully

Light fills the room - The WHITE room with no furniture, no tables, just a plain white room with shattered glass

Then, a broom. 

To sweep up the broken glass, and the one holds the dustpan while I sweep. 

What else do you see? He asks

I see a door. 

What’s behind the door? He asks. 

I don’t know. I’m scared. 

Why are you scared?

Because every door that’s opened in my life just slams right in front of me. 

How do you know it’s not something good?

Ok. I’ll open the door. 

But it’s not just any door. Not with a knob. 

It’s just a plain old white door, and it’s one you push. 

The kind you gently push and it swings right open. 

What do you See? 

I hear birds. They’re chirping. 

So you’re outside?

Yes.  And there are blossoming trees and a brook. 

A brook?

Yes. A brook. 

What should we do with the glass?

I hate the glass. 

I don’t think you hate the glass. 

You’re right. I love the glass. 

Ok. So there must be a place to put it. What do you see?

I see a woman. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen sitting near the brook. And she beckons me to come to her. 

She takes the broken glass, pours it in a little pouch, and hangs it on her robes. 

Then the wArmest embrace as she calms my inner storm, and I freely cry and weep and wail. 

And she sheds just a tear, but a happy knowing tear and tells me to rest for a while. 

She loves me. 

She loves me. 

And so I sleep in the long grass with the most heavenly scent and peace

And before I go, she gives me the glass, now mended by her hands and says, “this glass is not for you to bear. I will keep it til I find someone who is worthy.”

So I sleep, and when I wake, I’m back. 

I’m back here.