ekphrastic prose

I am David.

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The Philistines are upon me.  A great army across the valley taunting and tormenting my peaceful village.  I am afraid.   They are big, they are evil, and they want our peace of mind.  Our happy spirits.  They want to trample us in the mud and take our lives. To leave us as carrion on the valley floor.

Photo by Jianxiang Wu on Unsplash

Oh where is my David?  Where is the sling and the five smooth stones?  I need to triumph over the Philistines coming for me. Coming for us.

Their largest, Goliath, heaps insult upon me.  His very presence is a storm cloud over me and my heart is heavy, my mind churning, and my body trembling.  He can do so much damage to me and mine. 

Deliver me from this Philistine.

Oh, Lord, hear my prayer.

I drop to my knees and see that the daffodils have buds.  The wheel in the sky is turning.  Spring comes.  I feel hope in my chest flutter like an awakening bird. Not the peaceful dove, but the avenging hawk.

There is no David.  There is no sling.  There are no five smooth stones.  There is just me and my travails.  Just me and my scant courage. Oh Lord hear my prayer and give me the strength of the daffodils.

The strength to emerge victorious in frightening conditions.  The strength to outlast adversity.  The strength to blossom in deep snow.  Do not let this be a false spring. 

Bring me the peace of knowing that I am enough.  That I can lead a victorious life.  One that is free of the Philistines that would steal my tranquility and ravage my happy home.

If David can be unafraid and face the threat in the knowledge that he is enough, I can too. 

I am David.

Goliath will not be my nemesis.  I alone can defeat the peril with the sweet spirit of a shepherd protecting what they have been charged to watch over. 

Oh Lord, hear my prayer. Shepherd me through this perilous time.

The Little Blue House

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Somewhere there is a little blue house nestled amongst irises and mature trees.  The little blue house has seen the trees grow from saplings to the giants they are now.  They’ve grown up together.

The little blue house is not so little now.  Over the years, Pete and Martha have added on — first to accommodate their children and then their grandchildren.  Soon it will be time to leave the little blue house to someone who will love it and move to small, more convenient digs somewhere in town close to doctors and pharmacies.  Pete and Martha are at that age.

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Quilted

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Tennyson wrote, “I am a part of all that I have met.”

Brooke Hampton said, “I am pieces of all the places I have been, and the people I have loved. I’ve been stitched together by song lyrics, book quotes, adventure, late night conversations, moonlight, and the smell of coffee.”

I love these truths because they explain my contradictions.  I’ve had a myriad of experiences in nearly as many places.  I have been blessed to meet a great many people. 

“Mother Earth” by Galla Grotto

And while doing so, I was often wearing jeans – the uniform of my generation.

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The Isolator

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The postman said, “You need to sign this delivery ticket” and handed the parcel to Karl. 

Karl’s hands trembled as he carried it to his study.  The anticipation of the past few weeks was now boiling over.  The Isolator was here. 

Just before closing his door, Karl hollered “Do not interrupt me upon penalty of restriction.  I mean it.  The Mayonnaise Jar Rule is in effect.”

The rule decreed that there needed to be at least a jar’s worth of blood before the five children were allowed to interrupt their mother during her afternoon stories.  It was the first time Karl had invoked it. 

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