The Lost Girl

She longs for a love she’s never felt, yet misses.  The child inside hopes to be held, comforted.  The woman inside needs to be loved, desired.  Surrounded by darkness, she cries; but it seems her pleas for help are in vain.  Her eyes, burning from hours of unrest, are nearly adjusted to the pitch black.  She blinks and squints, hoping to catch a sliver of light, but finds none.

“Surely there is a way out,” she says aloud.  She speaks as though someone hears, yet she knows she is alone.  Then, a noise:  rescue, perhaps?  A savior, here to deliver her from captivity?  Alas, no.  It is just the sound of yet another facet of her life crumbling around her.

She screams, full of anger and desperation.  Why can’t she see an end?  There is no one to give her answers or solace.  She fears she is becoming increasingly comfortable in this abyss, though she doesn’t want to be.  She feels no relief, and it is becoming easier to stay.

She senses a faint whisper, seemingly coming from within:  “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  Is she talking to herself again?  No.  She is far from having the strength for these words.  A stirring deep in her soul reminds her of a pure, white light; a beacon so bright it brings healing and dispels shadows.  Grace pours over her being, and a smile crosses her face.  But then, a wind, cold and harsh, sweeps over her, bringing her back into the moment.  She grunts with frustration as tears pour involuntarily down her face.  She is soaked with the pain.

The voice again, louder than before, “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  “Lord,” she yells, “Is that You?!  If it is, please lift me from this pit!  End it, and get me out of here, now!”  Silence, stillness like death.  She scoffs, “I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than last time.”  Wait, “last time” . . . yes, she has been in darkness before, often.  And she has come out of it:  some way, at some time.  And it seems nothing has changed, including the voice.  She heard it in the previous darkness, and in the one before that.  Yet her chest is heavy with a sigh. She finds little consolation in the voice, for she is overwhelmed. 

Without warning, another wind sweeps over her, boisterous and almost blinding in its power. A drop of light appears to pierce the darkness, though from afar.  In echoing, thunderous tones, the voice speaks again: “YOU ARE NOT LOST!  YOU ARE NOT ALONE!”