A Year Ago Last February

A year ago, last February, I ran away and escaped.

Building my own adventurous plan,

a treatment plan, getting away.

Seeking out, looking for, pleading to you for help.

I sought after the wrong advice

when all I truly needed was

Your Word, the Divine to keep.

No hospital would take me nor would I go.

I wanted comfort and peace rather than letting go.

A Year Ago Last February

This beautiful home we moved into

was just a pretty shell,

one that could be found along the sandy beach,

empty of life as well.

This empathy shell.

What a succinct typo.

Empathy.

Where was that empathy

within that hollow shell?

A Year Ago Last February

I returned to a tragic building;

not a hospital, town hall, church or school.

Not as anyone could tell that is.

But I could.

Could you?

Returning to an empty house,

saying it was to prepare it to sell.

Here is where I was to spend 30 days…

then what turned into four months…oh well.

This, my little hell, provided what I needed.

This empty house became my hospital bed

and set me along another path instead.

A Year Ago Last February

Yes there was hell.

Sheer maddening hell.

I did not understand. I could not figure it out.

What in this hell and where I was to come out.

A Year Ago Last February

This town hall where I caught my breath and spoke.

I released my voice and my heart

and my mind began to settle as well.

Fearful to speak to you

or to you

to you

or to you….

because all that ended with that conversation

was a sigh and more horror

a tragedy that meant nothing new.

A Year Ago Last February

Overseas is where I reached out my voice.

I shouted as loud as I could.

And was heard.

For my whispers here nor my screams or cries

no one was that near or dear

and no one understood.

This, my town hall.

this is where I stood tall.

This town hall is where I built my wall

to protect from another fall.

A Year Ago Last February

This too; this room, this shower, this tomb…

this place, also was my church. A church all of my own.

I, the congregation, the pastor, the deacon, the Sunday school leader,

the custodian, the prayer warrior, the sinner, the nursery school worker.

Although I may not have attended a legitimate service.

In my shower, was my alter call and here is where the tears fell down,

and here is where God and I renewed.

I yelled and screamed and blasphemed His Name.

A Year Ago Last February

He…

He did not do the same.

Rather I was welcomed back like a young child.

Tears in His eyes for the pain I was living through

I fought against and He held out His Hand,

ready and willing to show me He always understands.

There and here is where He was and is.

It was I that cried, pridefully thinking I was the “I Am”.

A Year Ago Last February

A school meant to teach, to educate, to lead.

Oh my little girl, try this worksheet.

How I pretended and tried

and pretended to try

and subsequently and incidentally denied.

A Year Ago Last February

Some here some there,

but what she ultimately learned was truth.

She saw her mother transform

into what she now knew.

Someone not stronger,

but willing to be humble.

Someone who admitted

their own failures and blunders.

Why did she have to see only success?

What sort of ideals would that put in her head?

She, a five year old child;

she, my accountability partner.

She, my child,

the motivation to bother.

A Year Ago Last February

I would grow from this.

And certainly I did.

A Year Ago Last February

And a year ago last February,

in a place I called hell,

the empty and empathy free shell,

the shell that washed up on the shore

where there was not even a beach.

and had never been before.

Texas, a desert,

a dried cracked land.

Dehydrating.

Dying.

A Year Ago Last February

There,

in that place,

was a man.

Lingering in his fears and perpetual wastes.

Pointing and aiming and pushing the blame.

A Year Ago Last February

Such a bittersweet confusion and strain

developed from this escape?

My son I did leave there,

with him

and I am to blame.

I needed and wanted and survived because of this.

But how much did this truly affect him?

Did it drive him to a black holed abyss?

More than I ever wish to recognize.

Inside, I know a piece of him has died.

A Year Ago Last February

I believed it was the only way I could try.

And so when I returned to this empty shell,

I explained and held him and told him I was now well.

I pray inside he understood.

I know in time he eventually would.

A Year Ago Last February

But a year ago last February,

in this empty and empathy free shell,

this Texas desert I deserted,

this dried up hell,

a year ago this February,

snow fell.

No electricity.

No water.

Not enough preparations done.

A Year Ago Last February

A year ago this February,

it snowed;

but I,

the escaped one,

was in Florida with 77 degree weather,

reclaiming a heart and love for fun.

A Year Ago Last February

A year ago last February,

I won.