Golden skies and the tranquil breeze after a rain that infiltrates the shut windows signal half the day has gone. While stuffing chunk by chunk Linguistic Relativity into any compartment of the exhausted spaces of every active unit of life, an unsuspecting, mundane gesture preceded one of the most terrifying moments that would not lose its grip on me.
"Be still."
Terrifying, because: Never had it crossed the recency of my imagination. My clasped hands had loosen in laid-back composure. All my mind drew was a blank.
"Be still."
But every other sound was drowned by the furious pounding of blood that gushed tumultuously, again and again, into my head. A second round of fear gripped my heart, when every bone was beating against blood. Fear fighting fear; I fear because I feared.
"Be still."
Completely paralyzed in thought, the remaining ounce of strength could yield me only one thing.
"Be still."
In utter shackles, I found everything taken away from me, because I failed to choose what was good. I come empty-handed.
"Be still."
Fully aware of my inability to even number the hairs on my head, all I ask is, never leave me. Grace, was all I needed.
I will be still.
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