prodigal.

Journey to God-Knows-Where

The terrain ahead is dusty and frail. Cracks in the asphalt scatter outward. Stone, dirt and washed away soil mesh with the tall, burnt-yellow grass along the long and narrow ditch. A barrier of stagnant water separating the field from the road. The gentle path of the western wind blows across the soybean fields from right to left. The evidence of rain too-far-gone, can be seen in the puddles of muck and mire amidst the rows of planted crops. Will I ever escape the filth that surrounds me?

Various hues of grey and blue dot the horizon. A twinge of light from the golden sun is trying to appear; the clouds seem hard-pressed to contain it. The climate is mild, but cool. The morning dew covers my sandaled feet. I long for the sun to peek from around the clouds. I want the warmth on my skin - a deep contrast to the cold darkness that lines my inner being. Will my true self ever feel that warm sensation again? I feel too broken to be fixed.

The landscape ahead now serves as my canvas and I am its muse. But I know not how to pose; I know not where to move. I want to run... want to hide. I long to run from the inside out; from a world of darkness to a world of color. The earth around me is trying to be green, striving to be alive, but all I see is black; all I feel is death. I am yearning to stand still; to be silent; to be at rest.

High contrast. Sharp and protrusive. Dim and murky. Luminous and beautiful. The parallels of emotion and reality accompany me as I begin something that will become more than a journey. If I could only believe my destination would be anything less than disappointing. I have no other choice. Tail between my legs, I am returning home.

I wonder what awaits me there?

by Tim Beck

written for reCreative ministries