The yoke of all things.

She was tired, completely languid yet she righteously carried her yoke sculpted from the weight of all things. She shrunk from the intensity of her pain while striving to dodge playing kids and reckless drivers who seemed equally sunned. Then, she noticed a building with a cross on it.

For a nano-second, she contemplated stepping into the building but even before she had made up her mind, she found herself seated in the sanctuary. It was peaceful, its walls were covered in white, at a corner rested a stack of oversized books about the Lord and a seeming overflow of other books with words that could make music. She sat up, facing the golden coloured metal, having a shape she had grown to revere; his presence humbled her.

Streams of tears flowed down her cheeks, her lips struggled to mumble words but her cramped throat crumbled under the pressure. All she could do was gasp for air, letting the tears flow out. There weren’t words for this moment.

She cried at her misery.
She cried because it was the only thing she could do.
She cried because she knew it was the only place her vulnerability wouldn’t be perceived as weakness.
She cried because, she needed it to go away, all of it.
She cried because she knew HE heard her as HE always had.
Where else to cry than in HIS house?

It wasn’t a single thread that had caused her ball to roll but an accumulation of life. She had thought she could shield herself from the blows of time. She had fought her way through struggles that left her with scars and as a human, she knew too well than to show her scars. Yet, the old scars still pierced her and fresh cuts appeared in the same vicinity.

When she finally regained her speech, she cursed, complained, begged, thanked and begged again. She craved redemption- this yoke was too heavy for her.

As the mucus paved its way into her partially opened mouth, she cracked a smile sniffing in a tank full. Relief came first, paving way for liberation to penetrate her sweaty pores. She started singing out loud, in a fashion that baffled her logical self but this wasn’t about logic. Logic had helped her this far but she would be dead if it were all logic.

She knew it had happened when she shrugged her shoulders and felt only her bones. All she had to do was be thankfully expectant for her miracle and as she stepped out of her newly found war room, she believed without a single doubt that she had won this.

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