Riding Out The Storm

Such an opposing blue sky, a contrast to any color of whom dared brush its horizon. With a glance she barely noticed the sky and concentrated solely on her footing. The hike had been a long one, traveling down and down until the valley floor was with in reach. “Did I turn right or left at that last fork?” she thought.

The question was but a mental distraction, the trail a physical challenge and onward she did journey. Farther and deeper she traveled into the valley until the path grew wide and dusty. The concentration had been blinding, until now. Now the change in terrain caused a pause. From high above a raven cried, “Look at me,” but she paid no mind. Her concentration was now broken.

In a cement pose of wonder she stood in awe. The depth of her journey etched well within the height of the canyon walls. There before her were the contrasts of brown on blue, depth in height, the solitude and beauty of a space. “The rewards of well placed steps,” she thought.

The surrounds held her in awe and she rotated ever so slowly to take in the panoramic buffet. Spirited obstacles of red-brown earth rose around her speaking softly of a time we all forgot. Their volume rising to a scream only as they touched the opposing sky. Without warning a far away sound echoed and shattered her cement pose. “No, was that what I thought it was?”

With the speed of Apollo she whirled to a full about face. The screaming of the spirited obstacles was silenced and thunder took its place. Standing deep within the canyon, she found herself looking up at a violent black stalker with evil in its eyes.

She knew there was not a single place to hide and retreat not an option either; she choose speed. “I will out run you, you evil stalker,” her thought but the evil stalker stood its ground. It had no need to chase, fear was its upper hand and with a growl from Hades unleashed a sinister plan.

She ran with all her might; begged and pleaded for some heavenly, speedy feet. Nowhere to climb and with no real place to run she began to weep tears of defeat. The spew of evilness was upon her and she thought her speedy feet had let her down.

Again she took the cement pose, felt sorrow from her failing feet, bowed her head and emotionally succumbed. The evil spew of liquid swept over her, tossed her, banged her and tried to drown her with its grief. She held on and was allowed to occasionally breathe in deep.

With one last deep breath it was over. Gasping and spiting she lay drained but breathing. Not sure how far she had traveled and with all her might came to her feet. Again she heard the raven, “Look up at me” and found herself merely looking up.

I guess this is where I am. Life without warning, sometimes spews its evil upon us. All we can do is ride out the storm and keep looking up.

Peace and may you have very few storms.

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