One-hour Delay

It’s a one-hour delay for students

A meeting time for teachers

topic unknown. acronym foreign

THEN

She speaks

in a weighted tone filled with cold examples and questioning statistics

BLIND SIGHTED.

I’m stuck

in this room. surrounded on all sides.

It’s my job so I must stay.

Yet, that hole in my heart widens while my lungs tighten.

the Topic of the Year–speakers, faculty meetings, news stories

the buzz word for a few

a piecing memory for my tattered mind and healing heart

As the clamp on my soul tightens, she says I’m a victim.

I prefer Victor. Child of God. Redeemed.

Breathe.

Don’t make eye contact.

Focus.

Tune her out.

Stay. This is a test.

Role Play she says. Seriously?

No. I will not. I can not.

I did this. I tried that.

He’s still gone.

8 a.m. and the test, the torture concludes

under a cloud of anxiety

Quietly. Quickly. I escape.

to my room where his picture greets me and His Word soothes me

Breathe.

Dear God, help me.

Friends robed in compassion enter

1, 2, 3

They embrace me and grant me my release, my sobs

THEN

it’s time to teach

to pull myself up, wrap myself in His strength and do what He’s called me to do

and so I taught

and when the work day ended, I drove home

exhausted by the incarcerated emotion and surrender

After three years, I still feel the weight and brokenness of his absence

but I choose to exchange it for peace and growth and wisdom

For it is only by His grace,

that my shattered soul shines through the scar tissue of my healing heart