Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Down the Drain

The water pours over me

Rushing through my hair

Rivers running down my bare arms

Contained only by the enamel walls

Of the tiny tub


I close my eyes

The shower water blending

With my own tears

Hiding the shame

No guilt for breaking down here


Standing in the shower

Letting the water rush over me

Entirely

Trying to drown the day’s sorrows

My personal turmoil

In the hot, clear water


The haughty customer

The back-biting co-worker

The anxiety of the days to come

The sorrow at losing my family

Chains binding my heart

Weighing my every thought


I scrub now

Using soap

Shampoo

Body wash

Specialty deep cleaning products

Nothing reaches deep enough


My skin is raw

Pink and red

My fingers are tiny prunes

I cry from frustration now

Desperate

To be free


Suddenly

The stupid love songs running through my head

Stuck from repeated radio performances

Are replaced my a simple hymn

“Lord, send the rain”

I start singing out loud

The words pouring from my memory

Each verse building on the last

Until my tears choke the words in my throat

Tears of sweet relief

Overwhelmed

“He knows my name”

New words with pungent meaning

All the petty worries

The trite experiences

Seem insignificant in the light of this

Newly remembered

Never truly forgotten

Truth


Nothing they can do

Nothing I can do

Can change that

God loves me

Me

More deeply

More intensely

More completely

Than I can truly understand


These moments

When my voice is raised

In humble words

To an exalted King

These are the moments when my heart

Feels the most full

Connected with someone

Outside myself

Yet inside


I leave the tub

Watching my burdens

Swirl down the drain


August 12, 2007

1 comment:

Rozelyn said...

Jennifer-Rose... you leave me speechless. The emotions you evoked were so strong, they were almost overwhelming. The times when the Lord reaches out to us in our despair and gives us a song... they are miracles. You have beautifully and poignantly put into words what many of us experience but cannot express. Thank You,

Aunt Roz