Allegories and Metaphors

I love allegories and metaphors. I love the power of word pictures that go so far beyond the physical descriptions of emotions, of thoughts, of everything tangible.

Tonight I was doing some writing... just reflecting. I don't usually share my "fake" writing on here since this is mostly for my musings on real life. By "fake" writing I mean my make-believe, feeling creative and inspired writing... the writing inspired by real life but not necessarily me.

However. Today I will. Don't read into it too much... just some musings through a little more abstract lens.

                    *                                           *                                           *

I carry with me two heavy loads.

one is the Past.
one is the Future.

I think they are mine to carry. So I plod on, buckled under their weight. I smile feebly, but the moment my lips narrow and a dimple shows, the weight is crushing. The smile fades and a grimace takes over.

I stop to catch my breath. I try to let go of the loads. But the Past is strapped too tightly, and the Future is held secure in my white-knuckled grip. There's a stitch in my side and I'm not sure I can go on.

Others rally around me; they try to pull the loads off my back by encouraging positive thoughts, rest, or no thoughts at all...

The weight is too much for my weak body, sapped of strength. My eyes are dark holes in an ashen face from the sleepless nights. the loads lie heavy on my chest, restricting my breathing. Panic. Worry... how will I ever be free?

I get up again only to crumple. This time for good. As my vision narrows into a dark tunnel of... light. I hear a quiet voice ask a question. A simple question that cuts through the thickness of my misery.

My Child, why are you carrying what isn't yours?

I hesitate. I look around. The loads are unstrapped now... but even the thought of them still weighs me down. I'm still pinned underneath... just a slight hope of escape.

Come, Child. Let me help you unpack.

I cling to the Past. It's been mine for so long. It's become who I am... to let go now would mean to lose who I am.

...break you to mend you...
...destroy you to make you...
...lose you to find you...

Will you let me?

I hug it tighter. Until finally my arms go numb and I release. The pack opens up and out tumble the things I've tried to hide. I scramble to pick them up. To shove them back in before anyone sees.

Give them here, Child. Give them to me.

GET IT YOURSELF!

I'm resentful and mad. exposed and humiliated. ashamed. vulnerable.

But still He waits quietly... expectantly... hopefully.

I pick up the nearest, hideous weight. I all but throw it at Him. He doesn't flinch. It feels good though... so I gather them again, and one by one He collects them. They fly at Him hard at first. Then gently. Until the final piece.

a chipped heart.

I hold it long, gazing at it, eyes blurring, tears streaming.

That too, Child. Give it to me.

I place the chipped heart in His outstretched hand. He smiles gently. The rest too.

how did he know I was hoarding the chip? the flake? the splinter? the fraction? Why did He need that too? Didn't He have enough?

I need it all so I can mend it all

I cradle the piece... then gingerly lay it on the top of the rest. His hand closes. firmly. kindly.

I have just one burden left. I think it is time to be on my way. My load is much lighter, there's a spring in my step. My knuckles are white as I carry the rest.

I hear the voice once again: Child. The rest.

But this is all mine. It can't be His too...

It never was yours... you're taking what doesn't belong to you. What never belonged to you.

So I'm a thief? A thief about to be caught knows but one thing to do: run!
I sprint forward, the Future getting heavier with every step. A fork in the road...a road well-traveled? Seems safer. I race ahead.

But He is there.

Child. You are tired. Let me carry your load. I will walk with you, just a few steps ahead.

He is relentless. I am weary. I surrender the load. It falls to the ground. My hopes, my dreams, my plans tumble out. I prepare to gather them, throw them back at Him. But He has already collected them, placed them gently inside the pack, and has hoisted it onto His back. I glance. I gaze. I gape.

Anxiety ebbs away, and peace floods in to take its place. It washes over me, calms me, soothes me. Relief. Joy. Life.