A City Without Walls

Whoever has no rule over his own spirit is like a city broken down, without walls. (Proverbs 25:28, NKJV)

Walls

The sound of my thunder swelled, demanding sweet release. After all, I was right, wasn't I? I thought so , roaring through matted fur.

My raw, scratchy scream drowned out the grating, scraping, when the first bricks broke away, when the walls rained mud.

I was too busy screaming to notice.

It wasn't until an enemy skittered past me with a trunk of gold--my bride price--that I realized the ambush, longed for the lost plunder.

Now I sit, defenseless. Only the stone remains.

And Him, of course.

The carpenter sits with me, kind enough not to mention my destruction. The empty city, ashes, corpses, are punishment enough. He holds my hand for three nights as I weep.

On the fourth morning, something foul chews the air. "How long before others come," I ask, knowing well the answer, but hoping for comfort.

His truth burns me through. We both know what they will do if they find me here. Like this. The stone will stand, but my flesh, my mind. . . I swallow a stab of memory. They've found me here before. . . I lived here once. Died here.

Help me.

Kindness creases the corners of His eyes. I hear hoofbeats. Far off, but too close. There is no where to run. He smiles, carving quickly a table from the rubble, baking it with His fire. A cup too. No chair is needed.

I have the stone.

He brings the cup to my mouth. The wine pours through me,. One stitch bursts. A new skin will be needed later. Now death dances near, pounding the ground like talking drums, yet unable to make words. Only Love can make the words.

Love speaks. "Rise and build, daughter."

I stand, accepting his hammer with a trembling hand. So many years since I've built from nothing. Perhaps too long.

Hoofbeats explode as they approach, a black swarm topping the hill. In a moment, he's reframed the walls. Stubble is offered again. I refuse, taking a handful of obsidian and tossing it over my head. Turquoise is next. Granite. The diamonds look tempting, but that would be too flashy. Presumptuous. There were none in my dowry. I don't deserve them.

He shakes his head. "You never asked. Take some."

Drinking my tears, I still bypass them, tossing emeralds, rubies. I stop, turn around. Take a handful of diamonds, huge like sparkling fists.

"I mined those from you."

I can't think of what to say. Besides, they're coming. "Can I make an adornment out of one?" I ask.

He laughs. "Later."

As always, He is right. There will be time. I run, hammer in hand, smashing the stones. Columns of wonder spring up. I cry as the horseman arrives, leaps, only to fall back.

Walls.

The carpenter is hidden now, leaving only a diamond-crusted afro pick in my mane. There will be no roaring unless it is for Him. I'll rest instead on the open place I left this time.

The place in the center of the Stone.