Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Questions



The battle wages.  I fight alone.  My arm feels every ounce of my sword and shield.  The armor meant to protect me weighs me down.  How do I continue?  How do I press on?  How much longer can I keep this up?  I am so tired.  The pelting rains creates a bog across the field.  The ground slides beneath my feet.
The growling foe comes one after another.  There is no end to their number.  I feel their hot breath press me.  Blood, spit, and sweat fly. Heavy threats hang in the air of what will come if I fail.
I swing. I deflect. I parry.  I slice.  I block with my shield. Some I slay; their broken bodies scattered at my feet.  Shock vibrations cascade through my body.  My shield bearing arm is broken on impact from the enemy's weapon.  A sneer lights his face as I am forced to drop the shield.  My only defense, anticipate and move.  I cross block with my sword.  
The rain begins again with renewed strength as my own ebbs. There is no help.  I am still outnumbered.  I have called; no one comes. "You are on your own." Those sobering words are delivered with a victorious sneer as if he has read my fear.  Was anyone ever with me?  Was it all a figment of my colorful imagination? My throat constricts as prickling tears fill my eyes. Truth is not always easy to accept.  I am alone.  I release the armor protecting my heart.  I need to breathe and move with more ease.
A firm, heavy blow bears down on top of my sword. I am forced to my knees; buckling under its weight. In that moment my sword is forced from my grasp.  My time has come.  Eternal rest.  I lift my eyes to my predator's gaze.  The emptiness in those eyes are more menacing than anything I have ever seen. He informs me, "Most beg for their life or join the ranks of a new leader."
I whisper, "Never."  A well delievered  whisper can be stronger than a shout.  It hits the mark.  Much louder I declare to something bigger than he or I,  "I believe, but help my unbelief."  I am focused.  Peace cloaks me. I'm ready to meet death head on.  
My sword lies out of reach being cleansed of all things ugly in the deafening rainstorm. I square my shoulders and with a defiant lift of my chin I pray that my comrades fair better than I have.  The monster has decided to slay me with my own sword.  The sword I have lived by.  What is supposed to be the biggest disgrace will be my honor.  The storm wages but, I hear his clear chuckle.  "Foolish girl!"
Once more I repeat.  "I believe, help my unbelief." 
Unconstrained anger bursts forth as the monster rushes me; sword raised.
I gently close my eyes.   A gust of wind whips my hair across my face and everything slows to a snail's pace.  I open my eyes to see what game my attacker plays.  All that fills my vision is the embodiment of my belief, despite my unbelieving doubts and questions.  He has slain that which set out to destroy me.
A tear courses down my face, striping my bloodied cheek clean in its wake. I lower my gaze in shame.  I am not alone.  As the booted feet of this warrior appear on the ground in front of where I remain kneeling; I hear a voice more like a caress.  Barely above a whisper, this message was delivered.
"Your questions and your doubts won't cause your failure.  How you decide to respond to them can.  I've been here with you.  Choice is the most powerful gift to give someone.  In order to choose you must first question.  Don't fear questions.  They lead to conclusions. Until you arrive at those conclusions your belief and faith will bridge the gap. You have done well. More battles are ahead. More victories and perhaps some defeats; but the choice is forever yours.  I am here."  
With that I lift my sword.  It is a welcome weight in my grasp.  I have chosen. This is my destiny. I take a deep breath and see a new enemy on the horizon.  I start forward. After all there is no reason to wait for him to come to me. I am ready.  I believe.