Nearly 3 years passed by and I must’ve blinked and suddenly it’s the Fall of 2012. And I’ve noticed that things “new” to me — people, sites, styles, concepts on parenthood, marriage, womanhood, the bible or life — aren’t exactly new to the rest of the world. But they feel new to me. They’ve become popular during this certain period of time. The period when I was sleeping.
And you know that time after a trauma, when you break your leg and you need to rest it? Ice and rest, they always say. Well isn’t that putting your leg to sleep for a bit? Cold it down to slow it down. Slow the blood flowing, slow the inflammation but also the growth, in some ways. Rest it so that it’s quiet and not moving and not working and not discovering any new ground but just focusing on healing. Just keep it up in the air and iced and rested until the time when it’s ready to be used again.
And then your leg is ready but I’m not so sure your leg knows it yet. And you start trying to move it around and walk with it and you discover the muscles have maybe reduced in size and aren’t so strong anymore, there’s a scar here and there from the injury and it still hurts because that wound, it was deep. You walk with a limp for a while, and you think “hey! look at me! I’m walking!” and you think you’re so healed and you are, because look at you. You’re not sitting in the cold quiet anymore. But you aren’t really awake just yet. Waking, yes, but still not awake.
And over time you see that if you use that leg enough eventually it doesn’t hurt so bad. The wound was slow to heal and it took longer than you thought and the scar — well that scar will never leave will it? And you find the limp to be gone and you feel a fire in your muscles and you’re walking faster and you notice all around you people were in races during this time when you rested, they’re running now, and even others broke their legs too, and somehow the world went on and yes, you might need to catch up a little, but it’s ok because now you can. You really really can because your leg? It’s awake. It’s healed. Its sinew and muscle threads have restored and may not be like they used to but they are yours and they are moving and alive. They are redeemed. They are stronger than before, wiser, won’t bear the same memories. They are ready to go and live.
So I take a big deep breath and stretch my soul-sinew and this is how my life is too. I took a deep wound. And a heart wound is the slowest kind to heal — from the inside out. And then I had a period of sleep. Of quiet and rest. And I feel I’ve been waking up all these nearly 3 years now and am finally starting to feel a stride coming on. And I want to prepare to run. I’m ready to run. If I stay awake, oh how I want my heart to stay awake, I’ll be running soon. He is faithful to do it. I want to speak the language that God put in me and pour it out in all the ways that it’s meant to be poured out. Poetry can look like a sentence on the page or like a certain key or note in your ear or like a fantastic shoe or the perfect lip color or that glorious paint on the clean canvas that comes alive. All of it points back to Him, doesn’t it?
Poetry is God’s language.
It’s power on the page.
And I want to stay awake.
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