“eleven years” my heart whispered.
it’s time to make out two
into a three or four,
to expand our love
with a fresh perspective
wrapped up in a fleshy ball of joy.
you see,
i’ve never tried for a baby,
so it’s not the same journey of a woman with bare womb-
no, my journey has been a choice.
well, sort of.
“it’s time!” shouts this unknown ‘clock’
others seem to believe exists,
and while at times my spirit might nod in agreement
my broken body
wails and laments
it’s condition.
it’s not the moan of bareness
but of an earth suit challenge,
with and without a name,
a shape shifter
who robs my vitality and my very will and willingness
to move forward.
vaporizing one day
the next takes me to my knees
my body tangled with pain
like a bent piece of barbed wire
etching and searing it’s way into
flesh and spirit.
“No!” I cry.
“leave and be gone!”
power of hands
power of word-
all attempts at obtaining just a baby step closer
to another answer
in this giant ball
of
chaos.
it’s not time by my watch
at least it doesn’t seem to be
i have yet to receive my heavenly promise,
my deliverance.
i mentally toss this ‘watch’ into the deep sea
yet it ticks it’s way back into my life,
an unsatisfied alligator,
his tick and tock reminding me of years gone by.
“high risk!” the demons curse.
“too old!” the bastards jeer-
from the seemingly all too safe sidelines of health.
i arm wrestle an endless match day after day
month after month
year upon year
all with continued
empty
arms.
wrecked body, searching soul.
i cry out!
I pray it gone!
i break the curses
i invite healing to flood my every fiber
YET
still-
not my time.
the false ticks and tocks continue.
how i long to make him the beautiful father
he deserves to be
yet he waits
with the patience of job
for my body to be ready
for a wholeness
we wished for a decade ago.
and time goes by.
no definite answer, a stalemate.
it seems i’m cornered.
fragmented body and spirit
cannot seem to get into the same corner…
and another sun sets.
i sink my battered body deep into the warm salt water bath
lay my head back and stare at the cieling
as if it holds the answer.
and maybe it does.
a beat starts
a familiar tune
that appears from long ago
another lifetime it seems
from the back, cobwebbed corners of my mind.
“He’s go the whole world in his hands,
he’s got the whole world in his hands,
he’s got the whole world in his hands,
he’s go the whole world in his hands.”
“he’s got the little bitty baby in his hands,
he’s got the little bitty baby in his hands,
he’s got the little bitty baby in his hands,
he’s got the whole world in his hands.”
“he’s got the whole world in his hands…” tumbles out in whispers from the corner of my mouth as tears roll from the edges of my eyes.
from trembling lips brings an impartation to believe,
a healing balm to my soul.
he holds the one who holds the baby.
if i can believe this,
then i can believe in miracles.
this miracle asks me to jump in the river, let it sweep me away
no more standing on the shores of life
i can do no more with my infinite bag of tricks.
jump in,
let go.
submerge.
this is faith at it’s core
it tosses out the impossible
and asks to partner with trust
in this lengthy and daunting process
it requires severing the tethers
of fear that bind my ankles
keeping me a cubits length away from my true destiny.
the river rushes
i am frightened
but he holds out his hand
and as i place mine in his
all i know is that we are ALL
his babies.
and the tick tock stops.
image: briankennethswain.com