Fragility

Fragility

I stand, cautiously, in the stillness of the night, surrounded by my demons and protected by my angels, a silent battle unfolding like a beautiful ballet, the dancers moving around me, hypnotic, serene, yet so violent.

My heart shudders and my chest heaves as it catches its breath. I am without voice once again, lacking language for my anguish, for this surging emotion yearning to break free from its prison.

My past lines up to mock me, to grab at my ankles and to reach for my shoulders. I open my mouth to shout in protest but nothing comes out. I turn my face heavenward in desperation I look for His grace and mercy once again, for I need Him, now, more than ever.

It is in this incredibly lonely place that I have found Him, broken and battered I lay on the ground, rocking myself back and forth and I found Him. He heard my unspoken language and He ministered to me with His angels. I found Him.

It is like her touch. Her fingers through my hair, on my face. Her lips pressed against mine.

She found me.

I found her.

Our bodies share that fragile language with one another. My words choked up in my throat, unable to express what I mean; I don’t know what I mean but her presence so temporal – not enough time to construct words, to learn the language of my emotional self.

Ah, this journey would take years, but her patience would be rewarded. In the meantime we would fill the hours with our talk. We would share and dream and remember together. Our stories would be laid bare to one another and we would be curious.

Yes, curious. The gentle love language of listening. To be curious. To care in our communication. To offer a bit of our selves in an effort to tend to the fragility of the moment. To listen. To hear. To love. Yes, to love.

I am invited to participate with this ballet, reaching out to my love as she reaches out to me, swirling, dancing, prancing around the stage with only Him as our audience.

Safe. Vulnerable. Intimate.

My language, broken, fragmented, lost, and forgotten, yet the remnants of pain remained. And I am scared.

But He comes and picks me up. And I take my place on the stage once again and my love emerges from the shadows and we dance. Yes, we dance.

Her hair, caught up in the wind, blowing around playfully. Her eyes, piercing me, inviting me, caressing me. Her touch, so soft, so gentle, so fragile.

And we dance.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s