Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Hourglass

The Hourglass has returned.

Locking itself into position, the Hourglass begins pouring out its unrelenting stream of cold, harsh sand over our heads. We've been under the Hourglass before. We can't let it do its work again...

Angrily, we beat our fists against the sides of our prison. "Let us out!" But it's no use. We're trapped. Powerless. Unable to escape.

Wild with panic, we climb on top of one another in a desperate attempt to stop the sand's flow. "Whose hands are large enough to cover the hole?" One after the other, we slam our palms over the opening. "Let me try! I can do this!" But each attempt is a rueful failure. The sand stops for no one. "There must be something we can do! There must be something we haven't tried!"

A large crowd of friends gathers on the outside. They line up and begin pushing against the ominous enclosure with all their might. "Don't worry! We will turn it over!" they shout confidently. But their combined strength is no match for the's much too heavy. Its walls far too thick.

They stand back, defeated....Expressions of sympathy cloaking their faces. "So sorry..." they whisper. "So very, very sorry..."

Cruel, heavy granules continue to blanket us, layer upon layer. The sand's wretched grasp is suffocating... impenetrable. "No, no, no!" Our rising fear pulsates against the glass in time to our heartbeat...It won't be much longer now. We've danced this dance too many times before.

After the last grain of sand falls, the Hourglass grants our freedom. It releases us in a painful explosion of grief, anguish, and sorrow...our hearts just as shattered as the glass itself. Waves of anger wash over us. Anger against the Hourglass...anger against ourselves. "I should've done something more...should've done something more..." The mantra pounds itself deep into our minds.

Bruised, bloodied and sore, we help each other up off the ground just as we have many times before.

Seeking solace in the arms of solitude, we walk away from the tragic scene weeping softly."It's over. It's over..."

That is, until the day a new Hourglass arrives, entombing us once again...

1 comment:

Mrs. White said...

Oh Denise..................

how sad.

love you
Mrs. White


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