THIS IS HOW IT FELT
This really is how it felt, Lord.
It didn't matter what the objective reality of those times was,
this is how it felt when I most needed you -
and you weren't there - in my feelings,
complicated, confused, self-oriented feelings,
not black but red,
sharp, cutting red - of blood.
In some ways black time was preferable
for there were no expectations of you there;
only me and what was mine,
limited, known, predictable, restricting, safe.But travelling through the black and the red,
clouded and cutting,
the times at last become known as dark,
stone cratered valleys
of dying to live;
into the blue of some more peaceful presence;
floating blue, hazardous,
dangerous,
but navigable.Anon