Here I am.
Trapped.
In a cage.
Nowhere to run.
This room,
With its gray, musty walls
Closes in on me.
And I'm afraid.
Nowhere to run.
Where can I go?
Who can set me free?
It's my own guilt that
holds me here.
My own sin,
My own fault.
The Master knows,
It's my fault.
The garden,
Oh how beautiful it
looked!
With golden flowers,
Silver dewdrops,
Gushing streams.
It was perfect,
A place of bliss!
But now my heart breaks.
How I long to return,
To open the gates,
To dance with leaves
And sway in the wind.
But I am here.
Here, by my own fault.
If only that tree hadn't
existed.
With it's silvery fruit
Bathing in the moonlight.
That one tree,
I couldn't touch.
All other plants were
mine,
All their fruit,
Every twig,
Every leaf,
They were mine.
But this tree,
It was his,
And he said,
“Do not eat!”
“Do not touch!”
“For its fruit is not
for mortals!”
“You, it would surely
destroy!”
But the fruit!
How sweet it looked!
Shining, there, in the
moonlight.
Just one touch I thought
Wouldn't hurt.
Just to touch the skin
It would surely be divine.
And a bird there in the
tree,
He twittered in a
agreement.
So I touched the fruit,
Such silver fruit
That hung,
There,
Upon the magic tree.
And a light began to dance
From my fingers,
Up my arm,
Entering every pore,
It filled my heart with
desire.
So I took it,
and I ate.
'Twas forbidden,
but I ate!
And a dawning broke upon
me
Such as I'd never had
before.
I wanted to dance and
scream at once
And writhe in pure, hot
pain
How something can be so
Sweet and sour,
I know I'll never fathom.
And all at once a fire
flamed
And it burned deep down
inside me.
It burned,
How it burned!
From my inside to my out,
And my Master heard my
cry,
My shrill cry of joy and
pain,
And his wrath,
It poured upon me
A storm I'd never
seen.
He kicked me from the
garden
And locked me in this
house,
Here,
In this room.
Where I'm alone,
Where no one else can see
me,
And the scars I've born
till now.
Every day and every
evening,
I pace this horrid room.
At first glance,
It's not such a bad place,
There's lush carpet on the
floor
Flowered paper on the wall
A comfy bed
A sturdy nightstand
And a silver mirror above
it.
But this mirror,
It is a curse!
For every time I pass,
I see my marred
complexion,
And a glimpse into the
past.
If I avoid the mirror
It's really quite a nice
place,
But it's nothing like the
garden!
One more item fills the
room,
A blessing and a curse,
For the seed of the
forbidden fruit
Has grown into a tree.
And here it is my only
food,
It keeps me living,
But it's death,
For every time I eat the
fruit again,
I burn and scar once more.
The joy I once received,
From biting into its
flesh,
Has faded by the
light-years,
And I'm left without a
rest.
So I'm alone.
Here,
In this room.
With not a soul to comfort
me,
Not a face to give me joy.
“There is one way,”
The Master told me.
“To fix what you've
undone.”
But it's a narrow way,
I was informed,
Not one most men would
take,
Another must do it for me,
Because I simply,
Just can't.
Another soul must bring
me,
Some living water from a
stream,
Unlock the door that
blocks me,
And offer me his life.
For once he steps across
the threshold,
Of my musty, little house.
And sets his eyes upon me,
Death will steal his soul.
No man would dare
To do this thing,
I know I'm stuck for good.
I couldn't bear to see one
die for me,
Even if he would.
It's my shame that brought
me here,
My own guilt,
My own pain.
Why should another have to
bear it?
And free me from this
cage?
So I'll stay here forever,
In this musty, cursed
room,
I don't care,
I tell my self,
But my longing is just the
same,
How I want that living
water,
To heal my rotten flesh!
Time passes,
And I pace,
My toes have worn
A well-paved path
Through the lush-green
carpet,
And around the silver
tree.
My limbs feel limp and
weary,
But I dare not go to
sleep,
For hunger pains will soon
awake me,
And I'll have to eat
again.
There!
I feel them!
Twisting my stomach in
sudden agony.
I stumble toward the tree,
One hand reaching for the
fruit,
The other against my
flaming belly.
If only I had that water!
But no one would ever come
for ugly me.
I grasp the fruit and take
a bite,
A slight shimmer eases
pain.
I gobble up the silver
flesh,
And fling myself upon my
bed.
I feel the fire burn my
skin,
And I wish that I was
dead.
Oh, terrible curse!
Why must you bite so long?
When will someone come to
free me?
But, I know, all hope is
lost.
Living water,
Won't you come?
Let me wash now in your
stream,
Must I live like this
forever?
Oh, such a hopeless dream!
Knock, knock!
A pounding hits the door.
My heart beats wildly.
Could it be?
No.
It can't.
I know it can't.
Who would come for
miserable me?
But,
I hear it again.
The knocking once more.
“Come in,”
I say.
But I'm sure this is a
dream.
The lock,
I hear it click.
The knob,
I see it turn.
The door screeches on its
hinges.
And my soul,
It wants to scream!
For this man who stands
before me,
He holds no bowl, no
pitcher, no jug.
Where is the living water?
Perhaps he came here by
mistake.
He says my name,
And I tremble,
I shake,
And hide my face.
“Don't look at me!” I
cry.
“I am ugly. I am
marred!”
“My face will surely
kill you!”
“Flee this horrid
place!”
But I feel his hands upon
my shoulders,
He forces me to look his
way.
Placing his fingers on my
scars,
And kissing my broken
face,
He whispers.
“Child,”
“I love you!”
And I cry.
I know that voice,
I know those eyes.
He is my Master's
likeness!
“What are you doing
here!” I scream.
Surely he wouldn't die.
But the tree within my
room,
It begins to tremble and
it quakes.
Its silver branches flash
like spears,
The leaves rattle in a
storm.
Before my very eyes it
comes to life,
And uproots its hefty
trunk.
My Master turns to face
the tree.
His arms spread wide in
peace.
“No!” I scream.
“Stay back!”
But the tree wraps its
limbs around him,
As if to steal his breath.
And he doesn't say a word,
Not one
Single
Word.
And I cry,
Here.
In this room,
Where the steely branches
take his life.
They squeeze his quivering
body,
And I too,
Feel like my life
Is being squeezed from me.
How could he do this?
It was all my fault!
I think perhaps the tree
is done,
It's awful work at an end,
But one mighty branch
breaks from the rest,
Plunging deep into my
Master's side.
Blood spews down his legs,
Down the tree,
To the ground,
Where the thirsty roots
soak up the spill.
But the blood,
The crimson flood,
The tree drinks,
But it is shriveling!
There must be power in the
blood!
The silver leaves,
They curl and drop,
The fruit decays on
shrinking limbs.
And my Master slides to
the carpet,
Now stained red,
A pool of blood.
I run to his side,
And kneel beside him,
Feel his pulse and know,
He is dead.
Nothing I can do.
Sorrow racks my body,
Tears tumble down my
cheeks,
They splash into the
river,
Flowing from his side.
Surely this man was not a
man,
But someone more.
Blood seeps through my
garment,
Warm and sticky.
This life-giving
substance,
Floods the entire floor.
Living Water!
Could this be?
I want to vomit,
I long to run.
But something urges me.
Wash.
You must wash!
In the crimson flow!
I stare into the sparkling
river.
And it whispers,
“Love is red.”
So I wash,
In pure love.
Pure, crimson love.
I splash it on my face,
On my neck,
And on my arms.
I smear it down my whole
body
'Till I'm covered,
In blood.
I walk now towards the
mirror,
Trembling.
But my complexion,
It is smooth!
The scars are gone!
And I am clean!
How staining blood can
wash me white as snow?
Don't ask me.
I don't know.
But it is true!
I feel a hand upon my
shoulder,
And I spin,
Afraid.
But he stands
there,
My Master!
Alive!
“I thought you were
dead!” I cry.
“I was,” he replies.
“But how..?” I begin.
He places a finger on my
lips.
“How can you doubt?”
He shushes me.
“When you have seen what
love can do?”
“Believe, Child!”
“I believe!” I reply,
clasping his hands.
He smiles.
A beaming smile,
With a sparkling light of gold.
It fills my soul from top
to bottom.
“Now, come,” he says,
Pulling me towards the
door.
“See the place I have
prepared for you.”
And I walk through that
door,
The one that locked me,
Here
For so long.
But now I'm free.
And I know love.
True, crimson love.
Now we walk into a garden,
Filled with rainbows of
colors.
Ones I've never seen
before.
Lots of flowers,
Their scent weighs heavy
in the air.
A water fall,
It crashes,
But makes a joyful sound,
Against the golden rocks.
The grass is green,
Pure emerald,
Filled with life.
And there are trees,
Millions of trees,
But their fruit is red,
Like love.
Tears of joy splash down
my cheeks.
But my Master wipes them all
away,
Puts a song within my
mouth,
And we sing,
Together.
Here.
In a garden.
Made new.
I was struggling
inside. I had dreams and hopes that I feared would never happen.
There have been many times when I have been so fearful and frustrated
that I get angry at God. This particular time, I was angry at myself
even, because I was letting my dreams make me miserable. That's when
the words of Matthew 6:21 came to mind: “Where your treasure is,
there the desires of your heart will also be.” The desires of my
heart were all wrapped up in my dreams. Not that dreams are bad. I
truly believe that many dreams God builds inside of us. But I was
letting my happiness be dependent on whether or not my dreams
happened. How does this make me like the rich young ruler?
