Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Lock and Key (08/21/14)
- TITLE: to Soar on Wings like Eagles
By Pauline Carruthers
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I know it’s morning by the squelching sound of Rachel’s rubber soled shoes on the floor of my room. She always speaks my name. “Amy”, she says, “another day, another prayer, another hope.” I have come to love the sound of her voice and the squeak of her shoes as she does whatever it is she does around me. When she leaves she flicks the radio on and music soothes my soul in the darkness of my prison. I cry inside, wondering if I can still shed tears. Others come and silently move around me, making me long for the power of speech again. Voices I don’t recognise linger in discussion and from the darkness I want to cry out, “Hey, I’m still here. Please be careful what you say because I can hear you. I fight desperately to verbalise the inner turmoil, but the silence remains unbroken, fear releasing unheard screams. Someone turns off the radio, depriving me of the only escape from captivity.
“Jesus, our hope and trust is in You. We lift Amy before You and ask that You would restore her to complete wholeness and that Your grace would be sufficient for each day of her recovery.”
The voices become more familiar as the prayers soar into praise. I recognise Jonathan’s soft vocals in a song of worship and the longing to reach out to him re-ignites the love I had almost surrendered to the past. An unfamiliar voice brings confusion as I struggle to remember.
“All that can be done medically has been done and we have committed her into the hands of Jesus. I believe time and patience will gradually release her mind and free her body from the present restrictions of her injuries.”
It’s hard not to think of the accident. It takes me unawares in the silence and I re-live the horror of that brief moment in time, when a second either way could have changed the consequences. I feel the thud of the impact reducing my fragile flesh and blood body to a puppet on strings. I feel crumpled and put away in a box, until I can be mended. Can’t someone open the box and release me. But no-one does. I’m trapped in this safe world of stillness and the exit code is missing.
It must be morning again because I can hear the squelching sound of Rachel’s shoes as she moves around me. She tells me it’s raining. What I would give to walk in the rain again, feeling the wetness on my face, hair plastered to my head. To stamp laughingly through muddy puddles like a child.; to run and not grow weary; to soar like an eagle.
“Amy, Amy. Did you speak. Did I hear you speak.”
I’m not aware of speaking. Just of an indefinable, excruciating longing to communicate. It consumes my soul. I want to shout, Rachel, my toes hurt. But I can’t.
“Are you sure you heard her speak? What did she say? Did she move, open her eyes?”
Unrecognised voices mingle, blending together so I can’t distinguish one from another. Then silence deftly weaves its nothingness around me again. Rachel’s rubber soled shoes squelch and squeak over the floor, until I know she’s gone. Another voice breaks in; a sad voice. It’s Jonathan. He speaks gently and I sense his hope is dimming. I want to tell him to keep hope alive because it’s my only way out of this physical prison. His footsteps echo all the way along the corridor. Did I imagine the touch of his hand against my cheek as he left, or the delicate flicker of my eyelids? Will someone please turn on that radio.
An unfamiliar voice cuts in on my thoughts. “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” I think I feel tears, but have no way of being sure. Scrambling through my distorted memory I snatch at a jumble of familiar words, desperately searching for order. ‘They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’
The squelch of Rachel’s shoes herald the dawn of another morning. I listen as she approaches my bed. An explosion of ebony corkscrew curls frame a dark face; huge brown eyes hold a waterfall of unshed tears. I sense the click of release and freedom beckoning in the distance.
Wait for me Jonathan. I’m coming back.
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