Little Red Lines

 Little red lines,

Run far and free.

Be a river whisking me to heaven;

Let me drown in your life-giving force.


Little red lines,

Connect my scattered dots.

Trace lines along this battered vessel;

Shadow its empty hollows.


Little red lines,

Mingle with the air.

After all, you are fed by oxygen,

Though it no longer sustains me.


Little red lines,

Make my vision rosy.

Paint the external world a vibrant hue;

Leave me a sight to be seen.


Little red lines,

Take my breath away.

Pour my soul into the earth

And return me to my peaceful home.


Little red lines,

Be my map on this journey.

Guide me to my destination;

Outline my path along the way.


-November 22, 2007-


Sometimes I wish I had acted in 2007 instead of simply writing.


Then I wouldn't be here, in the middle of this mess. I wouldn't be struggling with the pain, the isolation, the fear, and the questions surrounding a global pandemic. I wouldn't be wondering why inconvenience is a more powerful motivator than compassion for some individuals. 


I wouldn't be wounded from conflict in a deeply torn nation. I wouldn't be stuck in the middle of people shouting at each other, as if being loud makes your argument more legitimate. I wouldn't wonder how every topic manages to become political; I wouldn't feel lost because supporting a cause gets you categorized automatically, and then people from the opposite side no longer listen to anything you have to say. I wouldn't be bewildered at the amount of hate I witness daily.


I wouldn't question what I've done wrong as a mother for my children in order for them to act as they do. I wouldn't ask what words I've said in the past will lead to their future problems. I wouldn't have brought them into this world in the first place, so I wouldn't fret about the kind of nightmare they will inherit from the present.


I wouldn't wonder what the point of any of this was. I wouldn't lose sleep over being an inadequate teacher or a failed wife because I never would have become either of those things. My husband, my students, my friends...they'd have someone better in their lives, and they wouldn't have the burden of me.


Little red lines...why did you lead me here? Why didn't you set me free a long time ago?

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