Desperate + Pleading

I return. The world is busy, life is distracting, motivation is hard in between the pressures and excitement of the end of the year and the holidays.

Ultimately the last five days have been miserable. Christmas eve Bambi was attacked by a larger dog. Christmas evaporated into the background from our worry. Worry doesn’t feel heavy enough of a word to describe my emotions. What is worry but not hysterics? It was difficult keeping the spirit of Christmas amidst the chaos that is Bambi’s life on the line. There may be no truer test of faith I’ve faced in my life than coming home from the ER, leaving Bambi, to our lit up house, to sit across from our stubby tree, surrounded with gifts, and asking fate to guide Bambi back to me. Tomorrow she may come home, I cannot wait.

□ □ □ □ □

Screaming silently, into
hard packed snow
at the top of my lungs
Come what may come
but do so in a roar
do not leave me
in a cold open door
asking what if someone knocks

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

I’ve not often plead out loud. In 8th grade I wrote horrible harassing letters to a girl in my class for months. When the whole situation came to light, my parents were called, I remember sitting at our computer desk, being told my dad would find out when he came home, and banging my head against the desk until a small kiwi sized bump formed on my forehead. With each thump I remember asking why I would do what I did. In that desperate moment I was asking for clarity of the past, asking for an explanation. I felt like I should understand my actions, I made them, I wanted to comprehend my responsibility but needed someone to show me. When I plead out loud for Bambi to come home I did not need understanding. I plead with only an ask of action, no matter how, no need to understand. That ask came from a place I’ve never visited, desperation.