I was Barnabas, with a skip in my steps on the sun dappled streets and words of encouragement on my tongue. A twirl around the school poles, daring and mischievous, inclined to evoke purpose as I grew up. My dreams were huge, unafraid and impenetrable…a pair of twinkling eyes, with not a thought given to the sorrow that introduces itself inevitably. Did I ever think time would be that unshakable companion even when I saw all I dreamed and built gradually collapse into piles of debris. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.

I dreamed of buildng a world where wisdom and joy intermingled with no care or burden. It was my masterpiece, every line carefully drawn, every brick precisely positioned. It was more than just a building, it was my abode even as I basked in the abundance of His blessings. Age was my driving force, as I triumphed over little challenges, each trophy so elegantly woven into the tapestry of my life. Money was a resource to bring some joy into the lives of those that I encountered. Eyes with no hint of life, hopelessness and despondency so tightly clutched around their bodies. Why did they grasp so tightly to it even as I offered solace? Questions unanswered, grief abounding, hope lost.

Oh but the tide rises and it falls, even more unpredictable than I would ever imagine. Now I clutch tightly to memories of a life once dreamed, careful not to err nor accuse My Creator falsely. Why me? Why not me since life is known for her unfairness?, even as I once walked to the lyrics of Wisdom’s songs….now it’s all but silence. There’s no point in looking back because nothing stands, a life bereft of all the fineries life can offer. I need not be instructed, I know that it’s futile looking back because physically it’s almost impossible, thanks to Fahr. Where was that body, sculpted and tenuous, striving to become just as pleasant as my soul? It’s almost like it never existed but for the intermittent flashbacks and memories that seem to be gradually taking longer to show up.

It was all at my feet, everything I dreamed and strove for, assertive in my demands without the stench of arrogance. Did I prepare myself for this? No, I was Barnabas, encouraging and propping up lives as i journeyed. A crack, then a crevice and all the glamor went plunging down unchecked and assisted by gravity. Can Humpty Dumpty ever be put together again? It took but a fraction for it all to come crashing down and now I’m tasked with picking up the pieces, trying to make something from the rubble. In the effort lies the victory however I don’t see the victory yet, even though I know it’s there, will time be gracious to me?

My body’s broken and darkness calls out to me with the offer of silence because I just want to be left alone as I see the deceitfulness and desperate wickedness of the hearts of men. Once they clamored like kin, now it’s just the silence and with nought but empty pockets, the clink of coins is gone, exaggerated by the silence of the dark. Even my kin are nowhere, just a repetition of their absence because independence was my strength but now the strength wanes each day. My throat hurts, my voice is hoarse from calling for help because in the darkness, there’s nothing but my own arms. Mockery tumbles around like a court jester, gloating on what’s temporary however this darkness will not be my home.

Gone are the voices of those I held dear, now the cacophony of crickets is the symphony that ricochets all around me. Did I love enough? Can I love for just a bit? The cares of this world are loud in their drumming and even with my eyes shut, I can still hear the noise. Broken and bruised, the darkness seems to be the best place….just to rest a bit before I continue stumbling forward; the sand in my face, the winds buffet agonizingly. “When will it end?” reverberates in my head, the answer I must hold onto or else my life would be for nought. You can take it all away, my faith is all I’ve got and prepare to pry it from my gnarled dead hands just before the fires consume this body to birth another. Can I balance the horrors of this side to the perfection on the other side? Is that an option too? Do my actions betray my thoughts? Still I know that as long as there’s breath in my lungs, my purpose isn’t over.

Besmirched and forsaken, yet will I strain for that glimmer that marks the end of this darkness. With knowledge clinched tightly around my waist, I know it’s for a season however the times are beyond my capabilities though I know who does. Just as I draw a fresh breath, I’m pulled under the surface as the experts revel in their superfluous unending diagnosis. My strength is best served for the journey before me rather than foolishly engaging in discussions that are frought with ignorance and selfishness. Walk in your shoes, let me walk in mine and even when all around me, the darkness tries in deceit to offer some rest to my broken body, I know that my current path would make it easier for those behind me. And when the bell tolls and my tale is told, may it bring hope, strength and inspiration to another. My name still remains Barnabas, and for now, I will yet encourage myself in Him who presides over the affairs of men.

Tarry on, I whisper, for there’s little trust in the arm of flesh. Tarry on, I whisper, the chariots of men cannot take my burden. Tarry on, I whisper, my race isn’t over and so from the shadows, I must emerge and press on because the shadows tell me that light is just at its fringes.

עד שניפגש שוב, יהי חסדו לפרנסתך!

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