The mud is thick

The mud is thick.
Like being dragged through frustration.
The rope burns your wrists where it makes contact with your soft skin.
The horses hooves are steady.
The ground is not.
There are Branches and pebbles.
Boulder and stumps.
In fact, patches where it is mud alone are a relief.

Every now and then there is a sharp turn.
You are whipped around and for a moment you are suspended in stillness.
But the moment passes and you are jarred back to this endless game of tug-of-war.
You've already lost, but your opponent doesn't care.
He keeps on running.
Faster and faster.
Harder and harder.
 
Then all of a sudden you stop.
You think that perhaps another turn is approaching and you brace for impact.
None comes.
In fact, you have been staring at this stretch of sky for so long that it becomes boring.
You attempt to sit up and your body protests.
As your head flops back down in the mud, you feel a cool darkness on your face.
You look up and see two eyes.
Then a hand reaches down to you.
It is such a foreign gesture that at first you reject it.
Then you realize that you are being greeted with a smile
And you reach up.

The hand is strong and pulls you into a sitting position.
Your wrists are still tied but the horse has stopped.
This traveler pulls out compassion and begins to scrub off grime with it.
They put on a salve of good listening.
They shield your heart with a hug.
They do not have to tell you they love you.
You know it.
And they know it.
They cannot take away the pain of this journey.
You know it.
And they know it.
 
But what you didn't know was that they could give you a priceless gift.
Not only a small relief from the torture,
But also a reminder.
This is not forever.
There will always be people who love you.
You are not looking forward to continuing the drag.
But you can now look forward to ending it.
Because up until this point you were not sure it would end.
But the reminder of a traveler keeps hope pumping through your veins.

January 2013