212 - At Purim

Purim is the time of the contrary, when appearances are deceptive. So much is hidden, so much will be revealed as the story ends. Dealing with illness, it is hard to escape the longing for the real picture, for the reasons and meaning of this experience. For the prognosis and the story’s outcome. Can this time of trouble also contain moments of growth? Do we deceive ourselves, or are we finding hidden truths?

Two Hundred Twelve

At Purim

In this topsy-turvy time, I spin away.
I seek the light contained in darkness,
The sense inside the senseless event,
The reason to my mystery of survival.

In this upside-down time, You open me.
You turn me and shake loose tears of loss
To dry upon my face with shuddering sighs,
Sighs that draw in healing breath.

In my time of limitations, You sustain me.
I look past the narrowness of my existence
And savor new delights. I recover contentedness.
You author my new definitions.

I unmask my pain. I release it, letting go,
And discover new strength. Not an equal exchange,
But a maturing of direction, a sure Guidance,
Setting my world on course, steadying my days.