Slow-beating broken

It’s the slowing beat, a broken rhythm, the pulse of unanswered questions. The pulse weak and the cause still undiscovered.

     The back of the throat catches at the back of the mind’s doubt and I fight with myself over what is real. Abnormal, too slow, “are you even alive?” half-jokes at the awareness of just how lagged the rate of heart drums. And it’s not a stretch to take the tangible and transfer it into poetic meaning for all else that applies to the doldrum of days.

Nothing is so broken that repairs cannot victor.

          Yet who cannot relate that such does not always feel true? That the quiet, the lack of answers, the second opinions, the striving, the falling short and the unattained goals pile so high that Kilimanjaro seems but an overturned cone on the roadside, long since surmounted and left inconsequential in light of such summits as the breaking of a human spirit.

But we fight. We fight to breathe in and out. To see a dawn and be aware that one more day stands to be experienced and 1,440 minutes are chances given to grow, overcome and be taught new mercies.

On the dawns we beg to shut our eyes instead, to pass on the “more” and rather take the “break”…these days we need our “others”. The ones who too are bits and pieces just trying to find whole. The ones who have gone before and stand behind. The ones who don’t quit, where distance does not determine loyalty and days or months between speaking cannot quantify a love but can stop time from passing, freezing joy and fellowship from one sentence until the next. These others are limbs on one tree, staying connected, stalwart in storms.

….mind fogs and attention wanes and the imperfect sneers…but I know its voice is powerless. My broken is the flesh that shows its wrinkles of age. I may stand in the unanswered heaps from time to time, but little are the issues and magnanimous is my Maker. I have every answer I’ll ever need in the empty tombed ending.

~~~~ ~~~

*I was a bit all over tonight. Forgive that. I have many a thought vying for attention and I lack the wanting to give ear to any, save the thought of sleep.
Lisa-jo has given me such rally and encouragement tonight. Such surprise. Such beautiful timing. She is unaware how great a blessing this all is. The writing. The living out loud. The voice urged outward, shared and celebrated. I thank each of you who speak your voice so that I may hear and be the better for it.

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