Margaret was asleep. She thought she was asleep. It was nightfall. She slept in one of four day beds. The windows had no coverings. The night sky was blocked out by the canopy of old growth trees that covered the sprawling property.
Margaret was swathed in years of suffering, sadness, confusion, poverty, and shame. This large home was not her own. This house belonged to a non profit that was run for women by women. It was the holiday season. Margaret had no family, no friends but this was not her focus. Her focus was work, pay bills and work some more.
She was at her bodily limit but she didn’t know that…
What she knew is that she loved the trees outside her window. What she knew is far below her window was soft, cool, fresh Kentucky blue grass. What she knew is whatever was going to happen to her was out of her control. She was asleep…
She felt calm. She felt peace. There was no sound. There was no dreaming. All of a sudden, she felt power and love. Steadily, lovingly…slowly she opened her eyes and saw the face of the one who had always been by her side near her elbow guiding and protecting her. Margaret had never walked in this world alone. Somewhere deep, deep inside she knew this was true.
She looked into the face she knew, loved, and trusted. Warm adoration filled her soul and she rested in the glow…
Then she felt something “snag” in her elbow… she looked down at her elbow and saw a red cord-like something being pulled from her. The cord was at an end and was caught on bone maybe. This alarmed Margaret. Confusion sparked in her mind while fear exploded in her chest.
She looked into the face that she loved and saw no response, no explanation, only determination. This was a dream. Margaret thought it must be a dream. What is happening?
Silently, the one she knew, loved, and trusted backed slowly away taking the cord along… Margaret looked down at her elbow and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She looked back towards her constant companion but no one was there. Margaret looked around at the shadows of the trees all around her. She turned onto her right side, looked up through the canopy of tree tops and wept silently as she entered back into a numb slumber. She has never forgotten that night.
Moral: This life is not what we have been taught to think it is. It is so much more…
Coletha Albert has been writing all of her life. She won state for Poetry in Texas when she was in the seventh grade. In the eighth grade her English teacher would not submit her writing because “…it’s too good… you couldn’t have written this. I won’t submit it…” That was at Crispus Attucks Jr. High School, Houston Independent School District. Sunnyside neighborhood… Coletha kept writing anyway and keeps writing to this day. https://www.arts.texas.gov/initiatives/poetry-out-loud/
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