My Life's Hurdle
Posted 03-08-2013 at 06:30 AM by LookinForMayberry
I've flown into the face of this wall all my life. Probably those dreams of flying as a young girl were what led me to believe that I could soar to heights that were apparently unimaginable to my acquaintances. "Why would you want to do THAT?" was a question I was often presented with, delivered by squinting eyes and furrowed brows. "Come again?"
And alone I would charge fiercely forward, heart-pumping, feet pounding, teeth gritted, leaping into the wall -- and falling dazed. Dumbstruck, I find my legs. Standing unsteadily, shaking my head, I look around me.
And try again.
Acceptance. Not ONCE could I manage to just clear its impasse.
Still struggle with it.
Now, I approach it with more trepidation. I stand looking at its height. Gauge whether I can scale it. Some times I reach the top, fingers bleeding, knees and chin skinned from slipping on the rocks of it. I reach the top a few times, now, and looked over its reaches to see those green pastures and the lambs that graze the sweet green blades always still wet with dew.
And then another long-life demon -- anger, usually spurred on by his buddy, frustration, tugs my heels and crashes me onto the rocky terrain of the side where I started. Heaped against its base, my nose out of joint, I rage. Still, after nearly 56 years, I can not yet accept the life I am given.
And alone I would charge fiercely forward, heart-pumping, feet pounding, teeth gritted, leaping into the wall -- and falling dazed. Dumbstruck, I find my legs. Standing unsteadily, shaking my head, I look around me.
And try again.
Acceptance. Not ONCE could I manage to just clear its impasse.
Still struggle with it.
Now, I approach it with more trepidation. I stand looking at its height. Gauge whether I can scale it. Some times I reach the top, fingers bleeding, knees and chin skinned from slipping on the rocks of it. I reach the top a few times, now, and looked over its reaches to see those green pastures and the lambs that graze the sweet green blades always still wet with dew.
And then another long-life demon -- anger, usually spurred on by his buddy, frustration, tugs my heels and crashes me onto the rocky terrain of the side where I started. Heaped against its base, my nose out of joint, I rage. Still, after nearly 56 years, I can not yet accept the life I am given.
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