In the Scheme of Things – 1996

By Rendo

In the scheme of things,

It was a brief interlude.

The delayed guest entered the room,

With gleeful laughter and storytelling.

She was bringing her friends up to date

With all the news from abroad.

Oddly,

And in between,

Her speech was interrupted

As she winced in pain.

At first,

I didn’t understand

The cause of her distress.

But with each additional conversation,

I discovered that her soul,

Held the secrets to my query.

Life's stresses were twisting

Her frame from her soul.

And the crows,

(Somewhere in her homeland)

Were tearing at her breast.

With her inheritance,

Came the lawyers.

Additional responsibilities.

And the dependency by others.

For survival,

She fled across the seas.

And this evening,

By happenstance,

She now breathed the same air as me.

Prior to my own arrival,

It had all been prearranged by our hosts,

That she and I should meet

During the dinner of French cuisine.

And, as the dinner proceeded,

I imagined I saw the " monkey on her back "

Pressing against her spine

Poking and interrupting her conversation.

" You know this woman? ", whispered my soul.

At first, I declined to hear.

“I think she was my sister, once.”

I finally answered.

We ended the meal,

With a suggestion,

That I should massage her back.

At first, her muscles were and knotted

Far Beyond my abilities to restore them.

The touch of my hand on her back,

Seemed comfort her.

Memories from past life,

Were brought forward.

(“ I know you are! ",

Whispered her soul to mine.)

Our touching was brief,

For her schedule now required departure.

She insisted that she must return home,

In order to fight the wolves.

And with a kiss,

I promised her strength

And said “Goodbye”.

I spent the rest of the evening,

Sending her comfort through the air.

Before falling asleep,

I used my prayers

To draw her pain into me;

Where it could be fought

On a more level playing field.

I spoke to her with my soul,

Hoping to hear just one word return.

I fear that,

Some day,

She may push me away,

In order to regain control,

Of her own soul's whispering.

Until then,

I wait in my woods,

Listening for her footsteps on the path.

Or, at least to hear some news,

That in her country,

She has won the battle.