Aloneness

Frazzled, frayed, spiked points of uncertainty.

Standing out amidst the green jumble of prairie plant life, solitary against smooth life-filled leaves.

How have I been found in such dryness? Scratchy stems, withered from a barren life.

Inverted – upside down - opposite to the oasis in the middle of a desert - my life is much like this frayed pom-pom plant--dried out, solitary, yet somehow, surprisingly standing upright surrounded by the flowing river of prairie grasses. Yes, it's the dryness that creates this unbendable, sharp-edged spike.

Flexible, living, chlorophyll breathing round about, yet here I am withered, out-of-breath, desperately clinging to lifeless roots. Will the gardener come and, with one gentle tug, pull me from my fragility – making room for new growth and green life? Will he blow my wispy top knot, spreading seeds on the prairie wind?

I'm not so sure I have a chance this season. Will Spring be my salvation? Did the seeds find their destiny--their root? Like wild salmon fighting their way upriver, must I die so others will live? Is the prairie song the song of a Savior?

Aloneness . . . yet never really alone.