Hung out to Dry

It’s damp, dark, and cold and it’s been that way for a while now. I can hear the door slam against its frame as the wind gust passes it by. The silence amplifies all the sounds that were unknown to man and the solitude slowly pulls out all feelings of hope. I cry out for as long as I can but the only response is the echo from within the emptiness. My arms are fastened tight to this cord as my torso sways with the wind. My strength is slowly abandoning me as I can no longer find the strength to pray up into the heavens.

The sun rises yet sheds no enlightenment on my soul and with each day that passes more and more scavengers close in to feast on my flesh. Bound and weakened, I lost the heart to fight off these buzzards whom persist on pecking at me during my most feeble state. Soon the storm will engulf me and the rain will be filled with acidic poison that blisters with each drop. Out here on this line I am unsheltered from the hail or even brimstone that will fall yet the very one whom lifted me up here will be safe in the haven of retreat.

A man cannot possibly fasten himself to such a cord strung between these two trees. A man may isolate one arm but he has no means to do both without the help of another. Is it trust or stupidity that leaves me hanging from this cord? Is the dim hope that one would return why I continue to stare at the ground so far below? Who is more at fault here, I for willingly climbing up to this point or those for supporting me until I could no longer move and then back away leaving me out here hung out to dry? I chose to step forward yet when such is done one cannot see the intent of those at your back. I hang here at my own peril for I chose to use my strength for the well of another.

The silence of the night brings out the sounds of the earth itself breathing and the voice of the Lord whispers to my soul. I have certainly made my peace with God and hope I made myself right by him but I pray out that if he has no further plans for me please just strike me down from this cord and be done with me now. I pray and pray and he chooses not to either respond nor to act and I am just left here to ponder on why. Why try, why dream, why work so hard to fail, why hope, why even pray. This point at which I am beckons the question of what punishment is this for and how much more shall I suffer. Is this a consequence for my actions or is it that of those whom came before me?

It is so damp, dark, and cold out here abandoned by the world of those meant to share this burden with me. It is so quiet at times I can only hear the whispers of the winds from far away times. I am so beaten and so tired I will soon fall to an unconscious state knowing that I will only be awakened again to finish my sentence here on this cord. Here on this cord where I was hung out when all the dreams withered and turned into nightmares and those whom shared the rewards feared the sorrows and escaped the darkness by pushing me forward. So here I am and it is so very damp, so very dark, and a cold that so few have ever felt and I have no strength left so I will succumb to the darkness until the next storm wakens me from my sleep. For I fear I  will remain hung out here to dry until all the tears are long gone.