This is a new place. Another one. I suppose someone thinks this location will be a better fit for me. But itís still permeated by a darkness.
Heavy darkness...so heavy.
Iíve been two weeks here as far as I can tell. I sit in my wooden rocking chair, varnish worn from many anxious hours. Hours upon hours.
Heavy hoursÖso heavy.
I donít leave my chair much. Which is fine, because I just wrap my hand-knitted, green and gold flecked afghan around my head and it becomes my sanctuary. A physical shroud of separation and silence.
Heavy silenceÖso heavy.
This chair was my grandmotherís final gift to me. I canít just leave it and risk the chance of another coming along to claim it as their own. No, itís my mine. I keep my body here, and my spirit.
Heavy spiritÖso heavy.
I canít see. I canít hear. I can barely feel anymore. Is there no light that can reach me despite the white walls and fluorescent bulbs I know are hanging bare from the ceilings? Is there no one to reach out to me and express words not muddled by pity or riddled with technical, medical jargon? Am I the only one that smells the stench of a life wasted? The putrid stink of lives rotten with failure and spoiled potential andÖsin?
Heavy sinÖso heavy.
What was that nameÖJesus? He died from sinÖI think. His mother, Eve, sinned and then was granted another life. And then she didnít sin, so she had a son and His name was Jesus. He was the oldest of twelve. I wish I could remember the rest. I know thereís a connection somewhere. Something about Jesus and sin and heaven and raising people from the dead.
I heard He healed them, too.
Wait, I think I know now. If you ask Jesus to live in your heart, then He saves you. But saves you from what?
Oh, I remember. Thatís only for people that He loves. Like the Jews and really, really bad people like politicians and whores.
So, I sit and wonder. I wonderÖcould Jesus love the deaf-blind, too?
But thereís no one to ask my question, no one to communicate with me. No one to even try.
The nurses carry on.
The residents keep on dying.
And I donít stray from sitting.
In my rocking chair for hours upon endless hours.
Itís dark and silent where Iím from. No matter where I am.
My spirit is troubled and heavyÖ
And so alone.
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