February 13th, 2024

I’ve fallen, again, into a grief ravine.

This deep chasm is not unique, not in this place, this particular map of a city I’m passing through in my life.

This ones is not tourist trap.

Oh, I’m trapped here but no one would visit on purpose.

These un-unique, deep gaps

– too ugly and terror-inducing to be called “valleys” – that sounds magical and lush, and green…

”valley” sounds like it slopes down gently and back up again…no, this is no valley.

these deep, vertical gaps are everywhere.

It’s as if someone took a giant hair comb to the earth here,

creating deep, deep, deep slashes into the ground

and leaving very thin, very high peaks in between each one.

The walls of the ravine are steep and very hard to climb.

Sometimes it feels as if the walls are slippery – like there is no place at all to get a foothold.

Then it changes, morphs into a craggy, dirt-packed wall with tiny, broken seashells sticking out

so that when you climb and then lose your footing, the wall tears into your skin.

But your choices are to climb – to 𝘵𝘳𝘺 to climb – or to run along the bottom of the ravine

Endlessly – never gaining altitude to get out.

But the running along the bottom part…

That part just feels easier sometimes.

Or stop moving altogether, just sit here, stay in one place.

I hate it here.

It’s too deep for the sun to shine down here so it’s all shadows.

Like a treasure trove for Seasonal Affective Disorder to collect participants for its annual party, except here there is an annual pass.

You know how that goes: annual passes are never cheap.

This one is very expensive. Very.

The cost of being here is too high to pay. I didn’t choose to pay it.

Thieves.

…Somehow, some way, there is definitely a way to get to a nicer, more lovely city.

I’ve been on other terrain before. I’ve stayed in nice places for long periods of time and never wanted to leave.

So I know better views and cities exist on this voyage I call my life. I cannot seem to find the map.

Perhaps one of these days I will arrive at the peak and it won’t be between ravines that time

A long stretch of flat ground will be there and, beyond that,

No more jagged rocks and broken seashells

But lush greenery, flowers and springtime air with fresh-cut grass.

One day.

For now, if I sharpen my focus a little…or some days, a LOT,

If I remember that I can call out for help and that there is someone who always hears, even from wayyy down here,

I’ll suddenly see camouflaged ropes hanging from the top of the chasm.

I’m not much of a rope climber so it’s still a tough climb, but there are knots in it to help.

Sometimes, when I just don’t even have the strength to reach the first knot, He comes down and sits next to me in the pit.

He lets me rest and watches over me so that no other beast can overtake me down here while I’m unaware.

Then, when I’m ready, He gets on His hands and knees, even in the broken-shell ground, skin-tearing ground, and lets me climb on His back to take the first step toward reaching the rope

To try again, finding the way out which is only up.

There have been times when I have gotten to the top and He has laid down across the gap of the next chasm, letting me use Him as a bridge.

Other times I’m not paying attention and just fall into the next, somehow completely ignoring the sturdy bridge.

One day, I will find the top that extends into pretty scenery. I just don’t know how many more ravines are between here and there.

For today, I can’t decide whether to rest, or look again for the rope.

I’m going to cry out for help finding it because I want out again.

I’m not worried about whether or not He’ll come; He always does.