Strike Upwards

I wrote this years ago with a friend in mind, and have since realized that it applies to more than just that person. We are sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, and we bear the scars of that race. But if we are sons of Adam, we are also sons of the new Adam, and He bears the scars of our race for our healing. If we embrace His scars, our own will begin to heal.

Your happy days have long since faded,

The innocent laughter of childhood,

The carefree days running outside,

Not a care,

Not a doubt,

Just sun.

Little could you have foreseen

The blows that would come your way,

Striking you, first in the stomach,

Then again and again,

Sometimes stinging, sometimes throbbing

As your senses grew numb,

As the frock of innocent youth was torn away.

Little could you have known.

And now, after innocent sun is gone,

Leaving in its place

All the care,

All the doubt--

And pain...

You curl up, trembling,

Sometimes rising,

Walking forward on shaky legs--

Freed, perhaps, from naivete

But robbed of innocence,

Stripped of joy.

Yes, you grow stronger,

You are learning to walk again,

But now you walk in the dark.

Once you knew no rain,

Only sun--

And now...

Now you know darkness;

The sun is a plaything, a bauble

Something to lighten a moment here,

Quicken a minute there...

But no more,

No more.

Maybe, if anything, it makes you notice the darkness more

Makes those bruises ache again when it fades

Knocks the breath out of you again

As it reminds you of that first time.

And that first time,

Again and again,

As you weep in your stripped nakedness.

So what now?

Why do you struggle, learn to walk,

When you see no more real light?

What is this thing

This something that pushes you on,

On and on,

As though your life depended on it?

What?

Could that shining bauble you love and hate

That thing that makes the walk unbearable

Yet...bearable--

Could it be it reminds you of something real,

Something real you lost with all that naivete

...not false, but solid and warm?

What if these blows were not all there is--

What if this emptiness you feel had not the final word...

What if something could cover your stricken frame again?

What if...?

Would you be able to get up again--

Stronger, yes, stronger,

Sustaining blows but not yet crushed,

Feeling through shadow--

And strike upwards?

Would you find freedom from the darkness

That has tried to own you?

Would you learn, yes, to walk in the shadowlands,

But to walk with purpose,

Cloaked, upheld,

To find that thing

The real thing

The thing you lost with all the baubles?

I think you might.

Strike upwards.