a novelist's dabblings

The Blues in the Night

The “Ides of March” Series … Prompt #2 – “Write about the blues in the night.”

Darkness presses in from the outside.
The clock slowly strikes one late hour after another.
And my soul feels a deep shade of indigo.
The vat of old memories is being stirred and –
Without warning –
They bubble up one by one.
The ancient groaning begins
Of a soul’s deepest longing.
There seems to be no remedy for this fog
That lingers with poison over my soul.
The fountain of tears was long ago dried up,
The questions answered with simplicity.
The course now lies clear and open before me,
I know my calling in life.
So why can the old wound be ripped open raw yet again
With a single word?
The deeper I press into my mind,
The more suffocating the blue becomes.
And in despair,
I see no way out of this deep tunnel.

Slowly, achingly, I claw my way to the Book of Life.
And like a beacon in the swirling mist,
The words begin to cut through the layers of navy.
Truth triumphs over memories.
Sovereignty is victorious over confusion and questioning.
Sweet love wraps its blanket around broken-heartedness.
Mercy kisses failures.

He knew. It was no surprise to Him.
And He’ll be the one to lead me to a fresh dawn –
A new sunrise, the promise of hope again.
And while I wait in the night, He clings to me
And won’t let me go.
My Papa – the Master Artist –
Who with one sweep of His paintbrush
Can color my world rosy again –

He holds me tight.

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