Bridge crossing

Bridge crossing (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

A gloom hung about over her head like a constant grey cloud nothing like a hangover but more a sense of, well, gloom since the prognosis

A sense of her cross coming shortly to its end

A sense of doom

And always when her head hung heavy with a burden she couldn’t handle like when she couldn’t bring herself to face the day she would turn to Him

When she couldn’t bear to face the day

And only then would she turn to the man hung on a cross seeking His mediation – it was when she no longer could, well, face the day

The man hanging too on a cross

The one she trusted over and over and now yet again who would reach down to say, come

It is going to be all right, hang in with me

Giving her something to grasp at, a tortured arm to cling to, to trust that there was nothing in all the pain

Nothing at all in the pain

The pain that was an illusion

© Millicent Danker
27 March 2013


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