Learning By Paradox
Constant. The hard wood, splintering, seemingly heavier every minute it’s carried. Uncomfortable and inconvenient, carrying as others watch on. They see the pain and yet do not know it. It hurts. Unable to know the difference between tears and sweat as they drip to the dirt. Thoughts screaming. That cross, the heavy one, the one seemingly impossible to carry, the one that hurts physically, that one that doesn’t let up and seems to grow heavier. I am learning by paradox. Let me learn by paradox That the way down is the way up, That to be low is to be high, That the broken heart is the healed heart, That the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, That the repenting soul is the victorious soul, That to have nothing is to possess all, That to bear the cross is to wear the crown, That to give is to receive, That the valley is the place of vision. ( “The Valley of Vision” ) As the wood splinters in through the skin, I cry out. The cries have turned to
