Will my heart ever be happy again? The long night is very long. I can't believe it will. Coming in contact with the harsh realities of life is quite earth shaking. Many souls cannot recover from it. I am still a baby, crying out for security—for someone to hold my hand. It is not the grown up me, it is the child within. It is still February, it is still winter. The winds outside remind me that the winter has not yet passed. My beloved is still on journey, or perhaps it is me that is still on pilgrimage, not him. There is a silence in the sunshine, that wavers in and out of the cold winds. A bit of warmth amidst the cold. March is around the corner then April. Then April 25th will come and how will it be? Who will I be? Where will I be? Through the corridors of darkness, my roots have plunged through caliche and it seems the ground has been broken up —new seeds from God may now be planted in my heart. Though through it all I have not seen His face. So quiet, resting, while the earth turns on its axis to bring the summer rains again.
But it is lunch time and I have only a echo to keep me company. The silence has not yet become my companion. This is a grief no one can take away but God.
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