Wednesday, August 24, 2011
I close my eyes and I am lead away.
I am in a new land.
It is impressed upon me that there is innocence in the garden.
Reality in the desert.
I am in a dry land.
In the midst of a junk yard.
Scraps of one-time furniture, well past its prime, surround me.
Along with train tracks.
It is hot here, and it smells bad.
All is decaying.
And I see people.
People that most would not look in the eye.
People that most would go out of their way to walk around, not wanting to cross paths.
People that looked like the underbelly of society.
Simply known as "those people", my gut tells me that you can picture them too.
They would be the ones that some raise charity for and most try hard to push outside of their consciousness.
And it starts with one.
He is disturbed.
He sits down in the fragments of what was a chair and begins to place himself in a straight jacket.
I am confused.
I am a bystander.
There to see, unable to respond.
And another one.
She climbs onto a chair and places herself in restraints.
She is every bit as frantic.
I don't understand.
And even more run across the train tracks.
I have turned now, turned to watch them.
They are running away from me and they stop.
The train is coming.
We can feel it.
The tracks are between us.
It turns the bend.
They turn around.
They are heading for the tracks, but why?
I watch as they willingly step onto the tracks.
They are not crossing this time, they are walking.
Sure footed, they intend on staying on the tracks.
The train is closing ground.
Urgency builds inside my chest, bubbling up to my vocal cords.
My real eyes open.
The sun is rising.
My hope is this: that the Son has risen.
To break the captives free.
It is what this frail life was fashioned for.