In twilight hours my mind often races, as I critique myself on time spent. Have I done good today? Have I caused harm? As night bears down upon me, have I been redeemed?
Shadows fall about the house as the sun sets, gently, to rest among the trees far away. I inspect those shadows, every one, making sure that they are true. So begins another night…another end…another beginning.
Now and again I’ll see a wayward shadow, running about with glee. Separated from its own kind, harassing me with torment born not of this world. Testing, mocking and laughing, these wayward shadows assault my senses, then go still for a moment or two. Just when I’ve gathered my composure, they begin their games, again.
Memories come flooding back, in these most vulnerable hours of the day. I’m no match for them when I am weak, and not as strong as they. But, deep inside I know that whatever the shadows say, I may not be strong enough right now, but will win another day.
They took so much from me, before I understood that there is a difference,true, between the bad and good. Upon sacrificial altars, the goat would lose its head. The adults would sing and chant and dance, faces painted like the dead. We children would stand away and watch these things we could not understand. It is only now I see we were protected by God’s hand.
I know that I’m not thinking right today. I could barely wake from sleep. Sometimes things weigh on me so heavily that I can barely breathe. So many secrets I cant keep…memories that burn inside my head like lava rushing towards the sea. But what is one to do with fantastical tales of evil things? Who would listen? Who’d understand? And how would I even begin?