Tear in your hand

Gather around little ones...

It's story time.

Wiggly-one jumps up and claps her hands "Oh! oh! oh! tell us a forest story!"

"No tell us a story with drums and wild Indians!" Giggly-one interjects.

Quiet-one slowly lifts her heavy eyes, "please retell us the story of the purple wings."

"YES!!!" everyone cries in unison.

I settle down  in my chair. "alright."

I open the book in my mind and draw back the worn pages carefully until I find the one marked by a single feather.

A lone glittery purple one.

I twirl it slowly as the story calls to me with each twinkle of the glitter.

Of a girl,

lost...

...lost in a dark forest.

I lived in this dark place for many years, an angry hurt girl, full off rage and mistrust, my fists always tightly clenched. Lost until I stumbled across a man named Richard who sat with me on the damp ground. We talked, and talked and talked for years. He eventually got me to get up and walk.

I stumbled blindly, my eyes still couldn't see in the darkness.

In the cool, dew slicked bark was my braille tablet. The towering trees my protectors....and my prison guards blocking out the sun light.

Richard took my hand and led me to two ladies, who let me curl up like a cat on there couch as they talk and talked with me.

All this talking wore a chink in my armor.

There syrupy voices undulated in the silence of the forest and I felt safe enough to one day unclench my hand.

With a searing pain a small hole tore in my palm, and as I held it up to look at it....

....light shown through it into the darkness of my lostness.

The love and care of three people.

Changed me. redirected me to find my footing on the healing journey.

They put the lantern into my hand.

...I, in turn, put in her hand.

She refused to take it.

It dropped with a clunk to the forest floor.

She didn't want to have hope. She didn't want to join the others. She wore the ancient pain like a damp cloak of moss heavy with dew.

It gnawed an ate at my soul. This little girl who was both lost and right where she needed to be.

"This way." I pointed.

"why?" she asked.

"The way out of the forest is this way."

"No, I am fine here." she said snuggling into the dirt.

I reluctantly head down the path and leave her behind.  Off on my own journey. Running over the well worn trails that used to make me stubble and get lost.

Others come and go. We share words. We hold hands. We go forward. We go back. Always heading to the edge of the dark forest.

...to some place most have ever seen. A place I had journeyed to years before.

I know she is still there. Skirting the edges of my peripheral view. Periodically I stop and stare back into the darkness. I hold up my lantern.

...can you still see my light Little Tear? I ask with my heart. I know you are out there dear one.

This way.

This way little one.

Sometimes I trek back and find her. Calling her out of her cocoon.  Gently prying her fingers open and placing the lantern in her hand.

It always tarnishes and rusts in her hand.

Sometimes she will hold it, sometimes she will blow out the light, and more then once she has sent it whizzing past my head to land in a crumpled up heap.

I patiently smooth out the dents, and relight it.

With a powerful will she blows it out.

determined to journey in the dark.

One day the forest gives way to a massive river.

I stare at the swift current and crashing rapids.

Across the water, something new.

an long meadow of rich green grass, that lead to a lighter forest.

There are many travelers sitting on the bank starring lost at the river.


*******************************************************************************
 To be continued.

yup, trilogy time again.