Deliverance In The Dark
Cotton sheets cling to my skin like a burial shroud.
Memories of Mom arise. Her pain-soaked blue eyes, looking out from a frustration-worn face, pulsing oxygen through nasal tubes insufficient for her to rise from bed.
Speculations emerge. Students laugh away the opportunities I offer. Networks with whom I negotiate ignore my recommendations. A torrent of career-ending opportunities buffet a floundering career.
Finally, a single image ripples across the imagined dark waters of Pine Meadow Lake — a crucifix. Realization accompanies it: “I worship a crucified God.” It is an epiphany, an outstretched hand reaching for me, as storm-tossed waves swallow me for the last time.
in the dark
more by FRANK J. TASSONE
photograph by IV HortonHire An Editor
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