The Field

I can't really hear.
I feel deaf because of the sudden silence.
I feel very light, and almost nauseous
from the lifting of the weight
of the storm.
I'm a little blinded from the light,
yes, the sun is shining through,
dispersing clouds
and making it hard to see.
I'm confused. Very.
I feel lost.
Didn't think it would be like this.
And now I feel exposed.
Dripping wet, hair in knots
my feet sore, bruised and cut,
I stand here, staring at the field,
at the milk and honey
waving to me from the grasses
and am scared.
To step forward. To enter into it.
This is so sudden.
So bright and fresh and beautiful.
And in the middle, a shape.
I notice the tent, now.
Its flaps are pulled open, inviting
to the wanderer, weary and exhausted.
I stare at it. I stare at it some more.
It's in the middle of the field,
surrounded by golden flowers
and green, bright stalks of various grasses.
It's intimidating.
I turn my head, glance back behind me.
I see trees, a forest.
Not a single leaf out of place,
not a single, frightening shadow.
The only reason I know anything
has happened is because the trees
still drip water. But only as if
from a good rain. Perhaps it was.
I shiver. I'm still standing in the shade.
The warmth of the sun
is still out of my reach,
several footsteps away.
And suddenly, I collapse.
My legs giving way
right at the edge of the field.
Not even a gust of wind at my back.
I start to sob in anguish.
Not even understanding why
these feelings are attacking me.
I sob until I feel a slight breeze
and jerk in reaction. Movement.
I push myself up onto hands and knees.
I wipe my face, shaking.
Shivering.
Opening my tired eyes
I see the shadow falling over me.
But no fear is brought with it.
Instead, it gives respite
from the bright light
at its back.
The form moves, kneels, in front of me.
I watch wearily as He bends down
places hands on my shoulders
and smiles, tenderly, as if He understands
how raw I truly am.
Tears brim in my eyes, for I know this:
I've been waiting and longing for it,
this moment,
where He would greet me
and whisper to me,
His arms surrounding,
"My Beloved, Mariah, you've made it."
My head drops,
and I enjoy the words
even knowing I've only gotten through
because He helped me the whole way.
"Mariah. This is Abelmeholah."
My heart leaps at joy with his words,
knowing that He is sincere.
I smile.
My grin washes away the fear
the insecurity, the confusion.
He smiles.
"Shall we go?"
I nod, and with His help, get to my feet.
With His hand in mine,
I take those first steps.
The grass soft to my feet
the sun a gentle warmth
that soaks into my skin
all the way to my soul.
It is the light of His smile.
As I walk, I find my legs getting stronger
their strength being renewed
and I look to my companion.
He looks to the sky and nods
"It is the re-energizing power of my presence."
"But aren't you always near me?"
"Yes, but you are now with me."
My heart leaps.
Even without fully understanding,
I joy in His presence.
As we near the tent, I feel a sudden reluctance
to go inside.
He understands, and gestures for me to enter.
I go in, expecting the darkness
of the shadows to overwhelm me.
But instead, the warmth of the sun remains.
I look at the sheepskin coverings
that lay scattered about the floor.
I look down at myself.
Over at my companion.
He holds a towel and bar of soap.
I shiver and tears start to fall.
Now I must choose.
To go and receive them...

(I can't write the rest right now, I know what happens next, but it is too tender, too fresh.)

--MovingGirl